


greed island

by slowlange



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Rugby, Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Date Rape Drug/Roofies, Fluff, Fluff and Smut, House Party, M/M, MENTIONED -- flashback, No noncon, Nothing too explicit, Oral Sex, Public Blow Jobs, Rugby, Semi-Public Sex, Smut, Underage Drinking, Vomiting, just killua getting a little sickie
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-10-28
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-09 00:14:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 25,214
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27095629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/slowlange/pseuds/slowlange
Summary: When rival teams decide to come together for a three-day weekend filled with non-stop partying, drinking, and endless antics, Killua thinks he has it made. A trip away at the notorious Greed Island sounds like the perfect getaway.That is until the one person he wants to be there drops out the day before they're set to leave.
Relationships: Gon Freecs/Killua Zoldyck
Comments: 40
Kudos: 99
Collections: Sin x Bin





	1. before

**Author's Note:**

> oh boy here we go...
> 
> this is only a single part of my *extensive* rugby au that i have planned. this has been an idea that has been growing from fandom to fandom over the past few years, but i'm finally gonna do it. and i'm gonna do it with gonkillua. 
> 
> a couple of things before we move forward:  
> \- gon and killua are aged at **19 years old** in this au. NINETEEN. they are both being depicted as consenting adults.  
> \- all other characters are aged between 18 and 21 (hisoka & chrollo, 21, kite, 20, etc.)
> 
> if you are not comfortable with the gon & killua in sexual situations, walk away. now. you were warned in the tags, and you're being warned here. if you read further, you consent to whatever you see.
> 
> now, with all that out of the way, i hope you enjoy this very special piece of my soul. rugby is a sport near and dear to my heart and i have found so much love from it, from romantic to platonic/familial. i hope i can give you a sense of that feeling too.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> before greed island.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is technically a prologue so enjoy! (note: this does **not** include nsfw content)

“Okay,” Killua releases a labored breath, “I think that’s good for today, right?”

His teammates surround him in a lazy circle, bent over themselves, and panting into the turf. They’d just finished their weekly suicides, though it wasn’t exactly at the speed Killua would expect from the rugby team midseason. Though last year, they weren’t anywhere near where they currently stood in terms of endurance and pure athleticism. Killua gave them a proud smile. 

“You guys look really good. We’re looking a lot better than last year. It’s only up from here.”

Kite falls onto his ass but still manages to return Killua’s sentiment. “Your captain is right, you know. A couple of months ago you look a lot more tired than you do now.”

A chorus of laughter follows and Killua steps into their circle before clearing his throat. “I have a couple of announcements, while you cool down.” 

He motions for them to sit. “There are  _ still _ people who haven’t signed up for the insurance plan under USA Rugby—” he glares at Knuckle specifically for extra emphasis, “—and you have to get it done by next Wednesday, or else you’re not playing at the next game.”

Killua continues after the small mutterings amongst them quell. “And other than that, I think that’s all that’s left.”

“No, it isn’t.” Knuckle pipes up with a wide grin on his face, “you forget?”

Knuckle’s hints do nothing for Killua, who is still drawing a blank until it dawns upon him just what he forgot.

“Oh, right. Make sure you pay Knuckle for the rental house before the weekend comes. We leave for our trip tomorrow night.”

It’s the mention of their getaway weekend that brings once exhausted men to life, whooping and hollering over each other at the mention of blacking out at a private rental house in the neck of the woods. When Knuckle brought up that Leorio from Phantom University had suggested to him that their two teams come together for a boys trip, rivalry be damned, Killua wasn’t sure how their peers were going to feel about it. He was proven wrong, evidently, and it pleased him. Nothing made him happier than seeing his friends excited. The details were easily arranged with both Knuckle and Leorio behind the wheel. You’d think they’d been working together for years, how well they put it all together. 

Within a few short weeks, they were set to head up to Greed Mountains—nicknamed _Greed_ _Island_ by the youth that deemed it a perfect location to host parties of all kinds. The house they’d picked out was perfect as well; a three-story home with a fully functioning kitchen and plenty of rooms for people to sleep, minus the few sleeping bags they’d have to bring in order to accommodate for the lack of beds. 

Everything fell into place like the last piece of a puzzle toiled over for days. All but one.

Killua still doesn’t know if Gon is coming. 

It’d been at least a month since he started hooking up with their rival team’s fly-half, and though they had a rocky start, the more stubborn part of Killua is starting to enjoy his company more. Besides the sex, he’d become a fortuitous friend. 

The team calls the end of practice, throwing their hands in the center and shouting out their battle cry before breaking. Killua is left alone in the middle of the field as he watches his friends scurry into their different groups, a unit despite their segregation. With a rugby ball still secured tightly under his armpit, he takes out his cell and scrolls through all his messages that he missed during their two-hour practice. 

Twitter notifications flood the screen and he scowls, swiping them away in search of the single Instagram one that he’s been waiting days to receive. One question, it’s  _ one question  _ he needs the answer to. 

_ ‘Hey, are you coming this weekend?’  _ Killua had typed it out and sent it two days ago before throwing his phone across the room and hiding under his sheets. 

Part of him wishes he could go back in time and actually take Gon’s number when the man had offered it outside of the bar. It would have been so much easier to get a hold of him. Better than waiting for a measly message that he’s  _ yet _ to get.

Killua shoves his phone back in his pocket once he reaches the bottom of his notifications. He thought a tough practice would distract him from the stupid little inconvenience that’s been tugging at him like a puppet’s string, but it’s clear it did nothing for him. 

It’s not like he wouldn’t enjoy himself at Greed Island if Gon wasn’t there. He’s capable of having fun without him, he’s not in  _ that  _ deep. But it would, at the least, be a bit more entertaining. That, and what reason could he have not to be there? Judging from the last time both of their teams went out for a drink up, he’s the life of the damn party. 

So what the hell could be so important that he wouldn’t be there?

Killua thinks back to that first drink-up of the season as he puts the rest of the lingering equipment into the shed; a generous gift from his teammates. The way Gon had control of him when Killua was the one that was supposed to be confronting  _ him _ . Despite the progression of their relationship, Killua had yet to shake the cocky aura slathered all over Gon when they first met. Wiping the floor with Killua’s entire team. A team that had been training for much longer than Gon’s, a sport that Killua himself has been playing  _ much  _ longer than Gon. It hadn’t been fair. It didn’t make sense, and it  _ still _ didn’t make sense. 

A floorboard creaks behind him and his limbs stiffen.

“Hey, Killua.”

He jumps back and away from the voice at light speed. Goosebumps explode all over his skin, up to his arms, and down his toes. 

“Holy  _ shit _ ,” Killua shouts, turning to smack the  _ only  _ person who would dare sneak up on him like this, “what the hell are you  _ doing  _ here Gon?!”

Gon’s bottom lip juts out into a pout. “I came to see you.”

“Why don’t you answer my fucking  _ texts _ ? How about that?”

“I told you that I don’t use Instagram a lot.”

He pulls the door to the shed shut, giving them as much privacy as needed. Killua could only pray that none of his teammates were lingering around the field when Gon hopped the fence.

“‘A lot’ doesn’t mean  _ never _ , asshole.” He shoved two of the tackling pads into their designated slots, “Where the hell have you been?”

“Busy,” Gon says it as if Killua isn’t fuming before him, “I have a lot of stuff going on.”

“It’s one text message. One  _ answer _ . All you had to do was say yes or no.” He retorts.

“I didn’t even see the message!”

Killua sighs, smacking his forehead. He doesn’t know why he deals with this. Well, he does. But deep down, he doesn’t.

“Are you  _ coming  _ this weekend? Or not?”

Gon shakes his head and Killua’s entire stomach drops. At least he has his answer now.

“You’re not…?”

“I have work,” He says, “I’m getting out late on Friday, and I have a lot of school stuff to do this weekend. Just isn’t worth it, you know?”

His words feel like a solid punch in the solar plexus.  _ Isn't it worth it?  _

“…Okay.”

Gon’s gaze follows him as he tosses the ball bag to the other side of the room. 

“What? Are you mad at me?” 

Killua dusts his hands off, admiring the organized shed without giving him a second glance.

“I’m not mad,” he responds, turning around and bending down to untie his cleats, “I don’t know why you think everything is about—”

The rest of his sentence is crushed, replaced with a pathetic squeak as Gon’s crotch presses up against his ass. A low hum vibrates from his chest, hands easing onto Killua’s sides.

“Don’t know why I think what?” He teases.

“What are you doing?” Killua breathes out.

“Mmm, I dunno…” He bucks his hips gently, “copping a feel.”

“Never say that again.”

“I’ll do what I want,” Gon hums, hand slithering down Killua’s rugby shorts and grasping onto his cock, already hard. Pitiful.

“Gon we’re in the  _ shed _ ,” Killua reaches back and smacks him, “can you please stop? I don’t know what your fascination is with fucking me in every open space you can think of.”

“And yet I haven’t fucked you  _ once  _ in public. Can we change that soon?”

“ _ Not  _ now,” is what his mouth grits out, but presently, his body is content in its position.

“Alright,” He shrugs, letting go of Killua and backing up. Free of Gon’s sexual appetite, Killua finishes kicking off his cleats before picking them up from the floor. 

“But for real…Hisoka and the rest of them have been begging me to come all week,” Gon explains, leaning back against the wooden wall as he adjusts himself in his grey sweats. Killua ignores the mention of Hisoka, a jealous pit burning in his stomach. “I just don’t have the time. Any other weekend, I would be there. But I can’t afford it this time.”

“What do you have to do?” Killua asks, sitting beside him.

“A paper for my biology class, on top of the weekly lab and chapter write up,” Gon runs through a mental checklist, counting on his fingers, “calculus homework—”

“I know calculus,” Killua blurts out. Gon smirks.

“Are you offering to help?”

“I’m…no.” he purses his lips, his hands suddenly looking very interesting.

“Anyway,” Gon chuckles at him, “I also have to do a college writing quiz. But the paper alone is going to be killer.”

The light above flickers, both drawn to the center of the room for a beat. Gon glances down at Killua, who spots him from the corner of his eye. 

“I need to focus this weekend.” Gon’s fingers extend to caress Killua’s exposed cheek, brushing his hair out of the way. “I’m sorry. I’ll make it up to you.”

Killua frowns. “I’m not your boyfriend. You don’t need to  _ make it up to me _ . Just…tell me the next time you’re free.”

“Oka—”

“And give me your number.” He shoves his phone into Gon’s unsuspecting hands. They sit in silence as Gon logs his number into Killua’s phone, going through the motions and texting himself quickly before returning it to him.

“Thanks.”

“Mhm.”

Killua still refuses to look Gon in the eyes. Regardless, he’s still granted a soft kiss before Gon picks himself up and departs.

“See you soon, Killua.”

Gon shuts the door behind him. Killua wants to scream. 

  
-

“Killua.”

His tired eyes fall to Kurapika, who looks at him tenaciously.

“Yes?”

“What’s wrong?”

Killua snorts, opening his textbook again. “What makes you think that something’s wrong?”

“I dunno. There’s just something off with you tonight.”

He sighs, closing his eyes slowly before mustering a believable response. “I’m fine. I’m just stressed out about this trip. I wanna make sure I get everything done that I need to get done before we leave tomorrow night.”

It’s not a total lie. He does have to do a couple of things before tomorrow, one of those things being packing in general. He still has to get food and make sure he’s able to have an actual  _ meal  _ where his teammates will settle with cereal bars and carbonated drinks. If Killua could tackle a healthy diet into them, he would.

“You’ll do it in time,” His roommate encourages him, getting up off his neatly made bed, “and we’ll get drunk, and we’ll have a great time.”

Kurapika holds his hand out over Killua’s textbook for a high five. He laughs before returning it.

“Yeah. What you said.”

And though Kurapika seems satisfied with their conversation, Killua can’t shake his yearning to have Gon there that weekend. He misses hours ago when he didn’t have an inkling of what the answer could be. At least he was living in bliss then. The only pro that comes out of this is that there won’t be an opportunity for Hisoka to hang out with him. Killua knows that that’s not really in his control, to  _ begin  _ with, but there’s something peculiar about the way he hangs around him.

Killua groans and throws the textbook over his head and into a pile of clothes sitting in the corner of his room. The last thing he can do right now is homework. He reasons with himself, promising to glance over it again in the morning when his head isn’t as foggy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey! thank you for reading & stay tuned bc they'll be heading down very soon ;)  
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/slowlange) and cry with me about these two kiddos :)))))


	2. first day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> greed island: first day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HAHAHAHA WOOOO--DAY ONE BABEY! i'm excited hehe, i hope you are too :) this is.....whew.
> 
> won't bother you with the usual; nsfw content, s o if you don't like itm run now. or stay. because it's a doozy.
> 
> let's begin :) hope you enjoy!

Killua, by the grace of God, had managed to pack everything he needed for the weekend before he fell asleep early Friday morning. When he woke up, running on barely six hours of sleep, he forced himself to comb through his mental checklist one last time. 

_Clothes_ , and though he knew that he’d packed more than enough articles, he still had to dig up his duffle bag to check. Because if he _didn’t_ have six pairs of boxers it would irk him all weekend. After that, it was shirts, shorts, and toiletries. The grocery list for the team is much longer than his list, being that Ikalgo, Kite, and Meleron called him up last night _begging_ to go food shopping under Killua’s wing. His trip had gone from buying for himself to buying breakfast lunch and dinner for his team for the next three days. That, and he undoubtedly would have to cook it all too.

Not that he necessarily minded that aspect of it. Killua enjoyed cooking, especially for others.

He glanced at Kurapika's bed quickly after zipping up his bag. His roommate had already left for the morning, a full course load of classes awaiting him before the weekend. His sheets looked like they were ironed onto the mattress, pillows neatly arranged like they were being shown in a furniture shop. Killua isn’t sure if Kurapika’s set up is neater when he’s in the room, and when he’s not. 

His side of the room doesn’t compare; it meets his standard of clean, but it’s nothing compared to the competition. His sheets are all bundled on one side of the bed, a product of constant tossing and turning in an effort to fall asleep. His closet is pure chaos from picking out outfits that were going to be seen by people he didn’t even care about. It had gone unnoticed ‘till now, but when he got dressed for not only his rendezvous with Gon but even the _practices_ , he’s dressing with a different purpose. And it’s not just to look good for himself; it’s so _he_ will notice.

And now that Gon’s not going to be attending, the fun in it seems to have evaporated.

He sighs, taking in the sight of his bed one last time. Perhaps he should make it before leaving. If for anything, peace of mind. The rest of his day would undoubtedly test him. The shopping, the alcohol pick up at Antokiba University, the _drive_. That, and making sure the whole team is put together before mixing in with the Phantom players and collectively losing their conscious mind. 

The bed is made in minutes. He’s proud. He’s ready. He _would_ get through the day. He could. He _said_ he could, didn’t he? That his happiness didn’t solely depend on whether Gon is there or not?

Killua’s phone buzzes in his hand, the sensation unrecognizable at first. His eyes flicker down to the blinking screen, Ikalgo’s name spelled out in bright, white letters. He must be outside.

A sigh puffs from his chest. And…it begins.

-

Their local supermarket didn’t seem to have enough food to please the entire team, so Ikalgo opted to drive them completely out of their way, out of town, to a mega supermarket. To everyone else, it’s a fun road trip, a simple detour, and Killua would have normally claimed it to be the same, but today it’s extra work.

“Killua, how much are you buying? Are you buying for the entire _team_ or just us?”

“The team, remember?” Killua recites the story he’d been telling many more times than once throughout the week, “They all asked because we figured it would be better to have one person bring all the groceries—specifically the one who can _cook it_ —versus having a weird mess of things.”

“We’re not overwhelming you, right?” Ikalgo speaks up from the front of the vehicle, “You know you don’t have to do this.”  
  


“It’s fine. It’s not like I’m paying for it anyway. They’re all paying me back as soon as I get the bill.”

“If you say so.”

Meal prep for their team for 2 days wouldn’t be that hard. If he’d been buying for the Phantom players, it would be a different story. But this he could deal with. Killua had to account for three dinners, two breakfasts, and two lunches. It’s not like they ate as he did back at home; simple stuff would do the trick. Boxed pancake mix and eggs and bacon for breakfast is the easiest way to go. Killua’s cooking experience is more extensive than just-add-water pancakes, but he knows when to pick his battles.

“May I request something?” Kite asks beside him. Killua turns to face him.

“Yeah?”

“Can you get veggie burgers or something like that for the vegetarians and vegans? I’m not just talking about our team either. I don’t know if the Phantom Troupe is even considering their non-meat eating players.”

“You think they wouldn’t?” Ikalgo questions as he veers off the turnpike.

“They think people who don’t eat meat are pussies.” Kite deadpans, “Literally heard their captain say it once.”

“Chrollo? He doesn’t look like he eats anything, to begin with.”

“Well, he does.”

“Who’s vegan on their team, anyway?”

“Gon is,” Killua says between the heavy beats of his heart. He doesn’t even think about it before he utters it and it feels _heavy_ on his tongue, saying his name now. “But uh… I don’t know about anyone else. Plus, Gon isn’t coming anyway, so—”

“Aw, Gon’s not coming?” Meleron slumps in the front seat like a toddler, hugging his knees to his chest, “we were supposed to jump off of the balcony we saw in the Airbnb picture.”

“Did he promise you that?” Killua almost doesn’t want to ask, fearful of what answer he could hear.

“I mean he _said it_ after the e-boards announced the whole trip, so you know, I thought he was coming.”

Killua spaces out of the vehicle and into the vast plains of his mind where he stands alone. Emptiness threatened to swallow him whole. Why the _hell_ had he promised something with Meleron when Gon himself claimed that he’d been rejecting pleas from his team all week?

“When did he tell you he wasn’t coming?”

Meleron’s eyes rest on Killua, who shakes himself out of his daze.

“I uh…” He sighs, coming up with a quick easy lie, “the other day. He messaged me in terms of payment shit.

“And not Chrollo…?”

“I don’t know his reasoning!” Killua snaps, as the car passes over a rather harsh speed bump, “I just know he’s not coming, okay?”

“Okay, okay,” Meleron surrenders the brief interrogation, turning in his seat again with sharper edges than before. “Just wanted to know.”

Killua doesn’t even bother to apologize. Not like he’ll mean a single word of anything he says after that. If his head wasn’t screwed on tight he would drop everything, expose their entire messed up little relationship and leave Gon a lengthy, explicit message. And not one he would like. Killua wanted to rip him three new assholes, all in different places. He’s so angry he can’t even place where it’s coming from. Is it the fact that he caught Gon in what could be a potential lie and he didn’t see it? Is it the fact that he lied in the _first place?_ Or is it still the fact that he _still_ isn’t going to be there?

It’s alarming that he cared more than he should, to begin with. He wished he had the power to move the oceans, slow time, turn it back, whatever he needed to do to assure Gon’s attendance. Killua’s nostrils flared, hot air coating the chilled window he braced his forehead against. Ridiculous. Gon is fucking ridiculous.

He’s getting to the bottom of this now. Fuck this, _stewing_ shit.

They pulled into the grocery store and found a parking spot rather easily. Killua didn’t pay any mind to the chatter of his friends, the enormous grocery store enabling them. He took out his cell, spelling out a message to Gon that bled with his irritation and rage.

_TO GON: Did you lie to me? Why did you tell Meleron you were coming this weekend? I thought you were REJECTING INVITES for weeks?_

The message was out of his hands with a firm press of his finger onto the screen. With it, though, went a chunk of his anger. He sighs quietly, looking out the window to see his friends piling out of the car. There’s nothing much he can do but wait, now.

-

A slight change of plans followed after their arrival. Ikalgo’s plug at Antokiba University had asked they come earlier than originally planned. Considering that the grocery shopping would most likely take a while considering all they had to buy, they opted to split up. Ikalgo, Meleron, and Kite would go and pick up the alcohol. Killua and Zushi would stay at the grocery store. They needed more hands for the alcohol, anyway. God forbid they prioritize how much food they have versus alcohol.

After their departure, Zushi and Killua took to the endless aisles of food that awaited them. Zushi, a victim of his natural tendency to obey any authority in his life in any circumstance, stayed behind as Killua scanned the endless lines of food with a deft, selective eye. Killua hadn’t been bothered by it until he _really_ started falling behind, so much that he’s starting to lose him in the heavy crowd.

Killua stopped in the aisle where the pancake mix waited for him, bracing himself against a shelf casually until Zushi popped out from behind a fair old woman inching past the walkway.

“Hey!” He huffs, “Sorry, sorry. Got a little messed up there.”

“You know you can walk next to me, right?” Killua stops his rampage with a gentle hand on his chest. He notices how Zushi almost deflates at his touch, gaze fixated on the fingertips scraping his tank top.

“I…was just respecting your space, capt—”

“Zushi, you don’t have to call me ‘captain’ all the time,” It pains Killua to have to explain this again to the young freshman, but he can’t stand how high of a pedestal he places him on. “I’m not like Coach Wing or anything. I’m just Killua, yeah?”

“But you’re an authority figure as captain,” Zushi says, sticking to Killua’s side now, “I should respect you.”

“You sound like you came straight out of the military,” He sighs. On the shelf to the right of them, Killua spots his favorite brand of pancake mix and his expression melts into a grin, pushing the cart forward. He senses Zushi chase behind him yet again.

“Seriously though,” He continues, “please treat me like a normal human being. Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’re the only one that does this whole captain bit, and it’s annoying.”

How many boxes of the mix should he bring, anyway? It’s not like it’s a problem if there ended up being extra, but he’d prefer to have the numbers right, to begin with. Accounting for how much he’s seen them eat _before_ , four boxes sounds like enough. Considering the Phantom players isn’t exactly harmful to his calculations, either.

“Don’t you want to be respected though?” Killua had already forgotten about the conversation with Zushi, his train of thought already chugging on ahead.

“Zushi, they _do_ respect me. They don’t need to treat me like a drill sergeant to do so,” Killua balances the four boxes between his arms before dumping them in the cart with a thud, “we’re friends even though I’m still a captain. That and my authority is only valid on a rugby field. Or practice.”

He rests a comforting hand on his shoulder, “We’re going to a house in the woods to get drunk and absolutely lose our fucking minds. I don’t want to be an authority there, or anywhere that I don’t need to be.”

“You sure it’s okay?”

“ _Very_ sure.” Killua grasps the cart, “Now, seriously, let’s get this shit done. Something tells me Ikalgo is going to be speeding to Antokiba.”

Zushi laughs and it breaks the awkward tension that was beginning to fester. The two of them continued throughout the grocery store, calling out items when they saw them and debating on what could be better or easier for the long weekend ahead of them. And for a moment, Killua almost forgot his little problem with Gon existed. Shopping for food was almost therapeutic, and with Zushi somewhat chilled out, he could appreciate the temporary peace. 

That is until they reach the frozen meat section and Killua’s phone buzzes deep within his back pocket.

_Could that…_

He takes it out slowly.

_1 NEW MESSAGE: GON_

_Finally_ , his heart drops deep into his stomach the sight of his name. His feet still themselves in the middle of the wide walkway and he grips the handle of the cart tight. Killua swipes it open without a second thought. 

_GON: told meleron that before my work schedule changed and all my classes piled that classwork on top of it, killua. you’re overreacting._

His face blazed with anger stronger than forest fires after he read the last sentence. He could crush his phone in his hand right now.

“ _Overreacting?!_ ”

Zushi’s head snaps in his direction but Killua sees red. Nothing else is on his radar except for that text. He shakes as rage consumes him fully. Of all things to say, that was the last, and the _worst_ thing he could have replied with. _Overreacting?_ How is he overreacting when he _literally_ doesn’t give a shit? He just wanted to know why the stories didn’t connect! Any sane person would want to know that.

Well, he didn’t need that shit. _Hell no_ . _Fuck him_. 

Killua charges through the grocery store. Now, he’s more than eager for the weekend to begin.

-

Greed Island as a whole didn’t resemble the brochures that Killua, Leorio, Knuckle, and Chrollo combed through pre-booking. In fact, he was inclined to say it looked better. Unlike the photos, they saw, most likely taken in the early spring, the fall colors that scattered about the property give it a warm and welcoming glow that he simply basks in. After a stuffy, two hour drive, it was a stimulating sight to see.

The ride up wasn’t fun for a couple of reasons he could have most likely foreseen; first came stopping Ikalgo from taking swigs of his whiskey while he was behind the wheel as if it _wasn’t_ dangerous. Next was stopping everyone else from drinking the _rest_ of the alcohol before they got there. He still isn’t sure why it’s so difficult for them to understand that this is the _only_ alcohol they would have access to unless someone would volunteer to drive down the mountain to buy more. His love for his friends was always tested during these times.

But they made it, and they made it alive at that. That’s all Killua can and should expect. 

When they pull up to the house there are four other cars already pulled into the wide, winding driveway. 

“This place is so nice,” Meleron gapes at the modern-style cabin, “the amount of money we had to pay suddenly makes sense.”

“Yeah,” Killua snorts, “it better fucking make sense.” The cabin met their expectations without fail. It’s secluded, enormous, and beautiful in its intricate design, just as they had been promised. Wide windows stretched to the roof of the house to the ends of the walls, providing a full vision of the inside of their oversized cabin. From here Killua could see the modern-style furniture to match the architectural masterpiece, a brick fireplace to match. The flames burn and give off a gentle radiance that touches upon the entire house. 

He sees Chrollo stepping out of a sleek sports car, two bottles of Carbonadi clutched in his tight grip, flaunting his money through materialistic means. It’s a painful, and typical show he’s putting on. Hisoka is next, body curving as he maneuvers his way out of the vehicle. Killua has seen them together often when they had games, he notices. They carpool often, and the way Hisoka eyes him presently, like a predator cornering its prey, assumptions can be made easily. It’s a stretch, but Killua wouldn’t be mad if the extent of their relationship is exactly how it appears.

Ikalgo parks and his friends pool out of the car, oddly excited to greet their conference rivals. Though the lines of rivals and friends tend to blend off the field in rugby, and Killua knows this. He also knows that his present affair with Gon is one of the circumstances that would be considered stepping over that muddy line. It makes him nauseous as he stays behind in the vehicle, watches his friends fist bump the opposing team members while mingling with the rest of the Hunter University students that arrived before them. In another world, where he was braver, stronger, he would call their tight-knit culture out. We could all be friends, sure, but a kiss could ruin it all? Killua will never understand it.

He’s beckoned from outside, waved over by Meleron and Knuckle at the same time. Killua doesn’t want to get out. But they wave, and wave, and _wave_ until they’re coming back to drag him out.

“Come… _on_ , Killua!” Knuckle drags him by his legs through the doorway, “You have to see the house!

“I feel nauseous!” He feigns it but Knuckle doesn’t seem to have a care in the world about his well being.

“Nothing a little whiskey won’t fix!”

And he must admit, it does sound good.

“…As long as it isn’t that spiced shit that Ikalgo got,” he surrenders, to which his friends cheer.

Once he’s seated inside, toasty and warm with a cold glass of said whiskey in his hands, the previous chaos mellows. The men from both teams make themselves at home, filtering throughout the house and claiming their rooms. Killua had done so in the beginning, both teams allowing their captains to pick which rooms they wanted before they got there. A small but meaningful thank you from their team members for serving throughout the season. 

He and Chrollo had scanned the house together earlier while the other stayed on the ground floor, unpacking the groceries that Killua and the Troupe members had brought to the house and marveling at whatever they could find to touch and toy with.

Killua didn’t like being around Chrollo. He never spoke, not that he needed to. Chrollo’s body language did a much better job of communicating than his mouth ever could. At least, that’s what Killua assumes. At some point, the two of them had arrived at a large queen bedroom, to which Chrollo turned to him, puffing his chest out and giving him a nod before sauntering into the room. Killua didn’t have to ask twice. It was claimed, without a doubt. 

Opposite Chrollo, who preferred to sleep by himself, Killua chose one of the community rooms for his room. His friends would surely follow, plus, he wasn’t feeling like sleeping in a room by himself this weekend.

So now he sits, with Kurapika at an arm’s length as the others go about their business, choosing their rooms, rolling joints, the possibilities are endless.

“Is it good?” Kurapika’s blond hair is swept into a ponytail that cascades over his shoulder as his head rests on the bar counter. His fingertips graze Killua’s glass and he shrugs.

“It’s good. Wanna try?”

“Please.” 

Killua nudges the glass in his direction, from which he gladly takes and sips.

“Not bad.”

“What, it’s not good?”

“I dunno; I’ve had better whiskey.”

“We’re broke, Kurapika,” Killua rolls his eyes, “we take the whiskey we can get.”

“Yeah,” He huffs, taking hold of his hair and throwing it behind his back, “unless you’re Chrollo.”

Killua’s mouth falls into a flat line as Kurapika continues. “If one of us had the kind of money that asshole has, we might be able to afford new uniforms. You know that?”

“Yes. I know.” 

“I’m sorry, I know I keep bringing it up, but I can’t _stand it_ you know? He just _wastes_ it. Their team doesn’t need new uniforms every _year_. And why don’t they humble themselves and just fucking fundraise for their shit like the rest of us?”

And Killua agrees, he _really_ does, but the argument surrounding Chrollo and his abundance of money isn’t one he likes to touch upon. Coming from a rich family himself—a family that no one knows about—the Lucifer name has come up during family dinners. It was a surprise to discover him on their rival’s rugby team when Killua joined freshman year. His father had informed him they might run into each other, but of all ways for it to happen, he never thought it would be in this climate. A climate that is _very_ opposing to the lifestyle and tastes they were raised to prefer as children.

So hearing Kurapika go off about it, puts him in yet another position of what seems to be an endless debt to their team that they didn’t even know he had to pay for. 

“We don’t need his money,” Killua drains the rest of his whiskey into his mouth before refilling the glass, expunging ice. “We work hard to get what we want. And it pays off. It’s honest. It works, and it brings us together at the end of the day.”

Kurapika smiles. “Yeah. You’re right.”

“So don’t worry about Chrollo. _Please_. He’s…whatever. A blip on the radio.”

They both laugh and it’s then when Killua feels the warm buzz in his gut. It’s the nice, warm relief he’d been searching for this weekend. He was glad to know he’d get there.

And then, his cell phone rings. The momentary peace has been shattered. 

Gon’s name is at the top of the screen yet again, to Killua’s surprise.

 _GON: sorry, probably rude to say you’re overreacting. have fun tonight_.

Killua quite literally whimpers at that, cradling the device in his hands as he reads Gon’s words again and nurses the fluttering in his heart. It’s not common, in the time he’s been dating around, for guys to go back on their stupid, thoughtless, insensitive texts. And now it’s so unexpected that he feels like maybe he _did_ overreact, after all, considering this gesture alone. 

“What?” Kurapika tries to look over but Killua jerks away.

“Nothing,” He says, and Kurapika falls back quickly, only to give him a knowing look.

“Club guy?”

Killua nods, let’s Kurapika connect the dots to a picture that isn’t true to avoid suspicion. He could live with Gon being connected to the mysterious ‘man’ that he left a club with months ago. As long as they never figured out that they were one and the same.

God. That feels like ages ago. Killua eyes his whiskey glass again, craving more. But wait—he never replied to Gon.

He swipes his message open lazily before typing out a quick and curt message.

_TO GON: It’s fine. Probably not going to drink much anyway. Have a good weekend._

He sends it, realizing he lied before downing another swig of the rich alcohol. Oh well. Wouldn’t be the first time.

Now they’re even.

-

They’d entered the heart of the night now. After unpacking and settling and going over the (extremely rough) plan for the weekend, they began to flow into the party atmosphere, and with ease at that. The house came with endless attributes to accommodate their…needs, Killua will call them. Surround sound, the bar (which they’d already acquainted themselves with), the wine cellar (theirs for the taking), the pool room, and more that Killua could probably list off if he hadn’t been so tipsy in the beginning. Music began to play, and within a couple of minutes, he went from casually drinking at the bar to taking a line of shots outside on the balcony. 

Killua had always liked taking shots. It had a different feel than what slow drinking would provide. A shot… a shot was exactly what Killua needed sometimes. The rush, the burn that disappears as quick as it comes, he doesn’t mean to romanticize, but it’s euphoric at times. 

And, it’s better when he’s being egged on.

Which, presently, he is. It’s Knuckle, Ikalgo, and Meleron specifically, with Kurapika, Zushi, and Kite sitting out since… four shots ago? Maybe five? He’s trying to remember, but there’s another shot sitting in front of him, begging to be taken. And _how_ could he say no to the sweet allure of the spirits of the night?

And so he takes it, and he hears the whooping and hollering circling him, and…is he spinning?

 _Focus on something_ , he tells himself, _pick a point_. 

That point is Ikalgo, by pure convenience, and as he grips his shoulders and almost falls, he’s bursting into a fit of giggles, with no surefire reason or means for doing so. 

“Okay,” Ikalgo speaks, but it’s spacy, “he’s drunk. He’s very drunk.”

“You think we let him have too much?” Kurapika. That’s Kurapika, right?

“He’s fine. He took a lot of shots, he probably just needs a second to reorient and then he’ll bounce back.”

And, for the record (that no one was keeping), he did. When he could stand up, they took him over to beer pong, where he lost. Multiple times. The fun thing about parties was that though there was so much going on, it was easy to get lost in your own space, in your head. With the aid of alcohol, it’s a much faster process, of course. But it was still nice. The atmosphere hummed around him closed him in tight with his group. His friends all laughed together, mingling amongst one another like never before. Even Kurapika is breaking out of his sturdy cocoon, looking weightless and joyful after a couple of glasses of wine. Team bonding at its finest. Killua is proud. He wants to hug them all and himself because damn, he earned it. 

It’s all okay. He’s living, he _feels_ alive. And most of all, he _isn’t_ thinking about Gon.

…Fuck.

He stops momentarily, ping pong ball clutched between his thumb and index, all eyes on him as they wait for him to complete his turn.

“Killua?” It sounds far away again. Fuck.

“Killua, you gotta go!”

 _What is Gon doing right now?_ Killua looks at the clock, ignoring the calls for his attention. Eleven o’clock. He should be off work now.

“Oh my god…” He whispers. His eyes can’t tear from the clock.

“Killua! Throw the _fucking ball!_ ”

He throws it _somewhere_ , but it’s nowhere near the cup they were supposed to hit to win. Ikalgo’s knees drop to the ground and he screams, something about failing his ancestors, but Killua wants to call Gon. He wants to call Gon. The mere thought of him has sent him spiraling into the all too familiar death pit of his desperation. Killua still wants him here. The alcohol, the _vodka_ , specifically, stops him from being coy and trying to lure Gon into every altercation they have (and that doesn’t include the times that Killua is lured into _his_ little traps). He’s drunk and he doesn’t want to play games. He just wants what he wants. And right now he’s about to do anything he has to in order to get it.

“Hey!” Killua claps his hands, “Hey! Hey!”

Everyone looks up at him and a single finger stretches out to them.

“I am leaving.” He announces, “I have to make a _very_ important phone call.”

“Oh!” Ikalgo rises from the floor—how long has he been there, anyway? “Is whoever you’re gonna call gonna _repent_ for that _horrible loss_ we just had thanks to you?!”

Killua takes a deep breath, with comical intent, before exhaling and following with a quick, “No. Goodbye.”

He’s out the door after that, a single mission in mind.

The first room empty available is his target destination, and he finds it quickly. It’s right next to Chrollo’s room, but he doesn’t care who sees him. Killua stumbles into the room and shuts the door behind him, slipping against the wood and landing flat on his ass. Ouch. That hurt. 

He shakes his head. _Fuck_ . Doesn’t matter. He needs to call Gon. He needs to call Gon _now_.

He dials the number he remembers by heart now. Sloppily, but successfully. 

_Call him. Call him. Call him._

Killua holds the phone to his ear in anticipation.

_Dialing…_

_Dialing…_

_Dialing…_

_Diali—_

“Hello?”

Killua’s breath halts in the back of his throat when Gon picks up. _Oh Lord, oh shit—_

“G-Gon?” He slurs it, then slaps his forehead immediately after. Fuck.

“Killua? Are you drunk?”

“N…No.”

“…Yes you _are_.” 

“Well…I—why do you care, huh?!”

Gon sighs on the other side of the line. Killua knows he probably sounds annoying and drunk and stupid right now but he doesn’t care. Gon’s probably got his palm spread over his forehead in frustration right now. Like he does during games when his team down a couple of points. A _couple_ . Not even down by a try. A _conversion kick_ .The _audacity_ of him to feel so defeated after a measly two-point lead against his team. Killua hates him. 

Killua wants to fuck him.

“You can do what you want, I just, thought you weren’t drinking.” He answers. There’s a twinge of something in his voice that Killua can’t name. He wants to coin it envy, annoyance even. But he’s afraid his judgment is off. “I mean, that’s what you said on the—”

“I changed my mind,” He does his best at responding cooly, “Ikalgo ‘n the others wanted me to do shots. So I did them. Because they’re my _friends_.”

“Killua—”

“Look,” He waves his hand through the air as if Gon is right in front of him, “I get it. You have work to do. But have you ever considered that you could do it _here?_ ”

“It’s like I told you, there’s no way I could focus—”

“Fuck that. I’ll lock you in one of the bedrooms until you get it done. There’s like, thirteen or something, you know? And there’s locks on every single fucking door! Except, wait… except like two of them. The communities—no, no,” Killua pauses and thinks hard before continuing that sentence, “the _community_ ones. We could have made it work! I just can’t believe you gave up on coming altogether because of a stupid paper. Papers are _stupid_ , Gon.”

“Killua I didn’t really have a choice. I have to keep my schoolwork in check, you know that.”

“You could have gotten it done beforehand! Or like I said, _here_.”

The argument isn’t reasonable in the slightest but he’s too drunk, too horny, to _empty_ without Gon here. 

“Can you just come?” Killua’s voice raises an octave, breaking at the end of his plea, “Please? I will literally do your paper _for you_.”

“You really want me there that bad?”

“It’s _boring_ Gon,” He says, “All they’re doing is playing crappy rap music and all my friends are into that crap and I’m not, okay? And they’re playing dumb games I don’t know how to play and talking about stuff I don’t even wanna think about right now. I threw a _ping pong game for you_ , okay?” 

“Did you mean beer pong?”

“What—yes! Stop changing the subject!”

“Man, so you’re telling me that you’ve been thinking about me all this time?”

 _Yeah. Because all he wants to do is fuck him._ “Look, you’re…”

“I’m…what?”

Killua sighs.

“ _Interesting_ . Good company, fun, whatever the _fuck_ you wanna call it.” It makes him sick to admit these things. They’re things about Gon he’s always known, always liked, but definitely ignored. He’d never been around someone that made him feel like this before, so much that it simply didn’t make sense. Friends didn’t make him want to sit in the middle of the field and talk about the vast and intense history of turf. But he could _have_ that conversation with Gon and most likely enjoy it. That was petrifying.

“…Okay. You _swear_ you’ll fully devote yourself to helping me on Saturday?”

Drunk Killua says yes before he can process the answer because he _won_ . He’s _winning_. He got him!

Sober Killua, sitting in the center of his core, knows he’ll regret it in the morning.

“Well, shit. I guess I’m coming. I’m like an hour away, but I can make it there by 12:30?”

A smile breaks out across Killua’s face, the phone suddenly weightless in his hand. He couldn’t believe the words he’d just heard.

“You’re coming?”

“Yeah!”

“You’re coming?!” He jumps in the air, dancing on the tips of his toes.

“I—yes, Killua.” He laughs, “I am. Don’t drink anymore before I get there, yeah?”

He nods briefly, before remembering that Gon couldn’t see him.

“Oh! Yes! Yeah, I’ll chill out.”

“Yeah, don’t want you falling asleep or anything.”

Gon laughs but Killua squints his eyes at the little jab towards the last time they got drunk together. Many factors fed into Killua knocking out in the middle of their little movie meetup, but _someone_ can’t seem to let it go.

“I’m kidding, Killua.”

He rolls his eyes. “You’re mean. Just come.”

“I’m on my way, don’t worry—”

What he says next takes Killua by the neck and suffocates him.

“—I’m coming for you.”

“Bu…” Killua can’t even muster the courage to say goodbye, a stammering flustered mess in the wake of his words. 

“See you.”

Gon hangs up and the phone slips from his unfurled hands. He hears the clatter but doesn’t reach to pick it up, check if it’s broken or if the screen is officially shattered beyond recovery. All he can do is run through the past seven minutes. Slowly.

He was left alone, and _the first thing he did_ was call Gon and convince him to come to a party he had already openly rejected an invitation to. And with good reason, at that. Yet here he was, dropping everything to come anyway. After all that talk about school, and grades, and staying focused, he still dropped everything to come. And all Killua had to do was, ask? Beg? Did he just beg Gon to come?

Maybe he just needs to sit down. Well, actually, no. He needs to _drink_. He needs a shot. Liquid courage is the only way he’s going to get through the rest of this.

But Gon said not to drink.

He groans before falling to his knees and snatching his phone from the ground. It’s not broken. He doesn’t care.

The door slams open and Killua comes stumbling out shortly, passing by Chrollo and Shalnark who stand huddled in a corner with a glass bong nestled between their stomachs. Killua’s almost tempted to trudge over and grovel for a hit, but he can’t bring himself to. He needs to take his embarrassing moments at a pace he can handle. 

Ikalgo is at the bottom of the steps, a red solo cup undoubtedly filled with their jungle juice. Killua stumbled up to him, barely passing a greeting his way before taking his cup and chugging it down. He’d already forgotten Gon’s request.

“Killua—” Ikalgo tries to warn him, but Killua’s already downed the cup of juice, spiked heavily with spiced rum. He spits out the last of it promptly, some of the residue falling on his shoes. His white sneakers would be more of a concern for him if he wasn’t dealing with the burning in his throat that begged him to vomit everything he’d eaten today.

“Why did you spike it with that?” He coughs, tries his best to control his angry stomach.  
  
“Because it’s _my_ drink?” Ikalgo nudges him, “Dude, are you good?”

“Sh sh sh,” Killua reaches to cover his mouth but fails, smearing his hand over his lips messily instead, “I’m gonna throw up.”

“No! No no no, not in the house! Outside Killua, _outside!_ ”

Killua doesn’t know what’s happening next. Just that he thinks he manages to vomit over the wooden railing and save them from having to pay for a damage charge.

-

The cold tile feels nice beneath Killua’s legs. Goosebumps pebbled along his soft, pale skin. His head swam, but only when he wasn’t thinking about it. His mouth doesn’t taste like vomit anymore, not since Zushi sat him down on the counter and brushed his teeth. Now all that remained was a watered-down minty aftertaste. He’d felt like a little kid again; carefree, everything being done for him because he wasn’t able to do it himself.

They left him alone in the bathroom, told him to take it easy. All Killua gave them was short, high pitched giggles before they departed. 

Surprisingly, he felt soberer than before. Though, maybe it isn’t such a shock in retrospect. Losing everything in his stomach that made him go sideways—thanks to that spiced rum—straightened him out a bit.

He doesn’t know how long it’s been since his phone call with Gon. Time has lost its essence. Checking is a possibility, for sure, but he lacks the effort. His arms rest heavy at his sides, his eyes droop with every second he spends shielded by the gentle darkness of the room. A burp startles him, burns on its way out.

Exhaustion, it engulfs him. Maybe if he closed his eyes for a moment, let himself be carried into slumber for… ten… minutes…

His eyes widen as soon as they fall shut. _Gon_. 

Gon would be arriving soon. Killua didn’t grovel and drop to his lowest point just to fall asleep and not only miss out, but give him a new round of ammunition.

That alone motivates him. Life floods into his legs, and in seconds he’s up. The room and it’s duplicates all merge into one and he regains his balance fairly quickly when he steadies himself against the windowsill. He stands there for a beat, breathing calmly and trying to center himself further. Killua knows he needs to get a hold of himself before Gon walks through the door. He doesn’t want to feel like this. He doesn’t wanna think about nausea or this party. Just wants to look into his eyes, feel the soft strands of his hair run through the dips between his fingers. Killua wants to kiss him. Feel him. All of him.

He’s horny; _ridiculously_ horny. But it helps him distract himself well enough to leave the bathroom and return to the crowd. They’re playing some game, Killua assumes from the sound the voices clamoring about.

When the door shuts behind him, his eyes fall upon a hunched up Zushi, slouched against the wall across from him. Killua’s shoulder blades bump up against it when he backs up, stomach purring at the sight of him. He wondered what he was doing there, why he stayed, but Zushi stood as soon as he realized Killua was there and answered that question for him.

“You’re okay!” He laughs, some of the alcohol he had earlier still hanging in his voice, “I wasn’t sure I should have waited to see if you were okay or not, but I figured I wasn’t doing anything else and the rest of the group is downstairs watching Knuckle and Shoot wrestle naked in the basement or something—”

“Zushi, Zushi Zushi, Sushi Zushi,” Killua murmurs absently, barely addressing or hearing what was said, “please. Too loud.”

“Sorry ca— _Killua_ ,” He holds his hands out as if he’s offering them to him as an apology, “do you need anything?”

Killua takes him up on that. “Water. Please.”

Zushi disappears down the stairs moments later and Killua follows, much slower in comparison, before seating himself on the quarter landing. He wonders how hungover he’ll be the next morning now, given time to mull over his choices. Maybe he could have done without the shots, stuck with sipping on nursing the whiskey.

“Killua!”

It had been a few minutes since he last heard his name, and when he looks up he sees his entire friend group standing before him. It seems that Zushi’s story matched up—from what he was seeing, at least. Knuckle and Shoot are in the back of the pack, maneuvering their shirts back onto their torsos while the others are covered in thick layers of sweat, most likely from hanging out in the sweltering basement. They were warned about that before they came.

“We’re playing again,” Ikalgo gives him a look, and it takes Killua a second to remember why. “Want to redeem yourself?”

Ah, right. He threw the game.

“The floor is comfy,” He looks into his cup, “I kinda just wanna chill for a while.” He wiggles his bare toes against the glossy wood flooring.

“Whatever you say,” He nods, clambering past him, “come up if you change your mind!”

He leaves and the others passing their greetings Killua’s way as they follow. His skull knocks against the wall behind him once they’re gone. He just…can’t do anything but wait. The anticipation eats at him too much.

So he sits. He watches the others enjoy themselves from his vantage; watches them drown in insobriety and act more barbaric than he’s ever seen. He hates it, but it’s so typical of rugby players. A game where one of the main elements is to wrestle each other until one person’s knocked down? Vulgarity on and off the field is almost a guarantee. One that he certainly doesn’t like to participate in. As a rugby player, he tends to carry himself with more elegance on the field while exerting the same aggressiveness. He doesn’t need to…puff his chest and holler like a gorilla before knocking someone down.

It’s a notion that no one understands. Except for…

“Oh shit!” 

_Huh?_

“No fucking way!”

He doesn’t know who spoke, but the door creaks open and Killua’s head darts up from his cup. Cheers burst from throughout the house at the sight of Gon Freecss stepping in from the crisp outside, and though he has many adoring eyes before him, his gaze falls unto Killua. Unsuspecting Killua huddled in the corner of the stairway and helpless at the sight of him. Gon smiles at him, and he’s positive that it’s only for him, adjusting his bag over his shoulder before clapping Chrollo on the back. 

He could not find the words at the moment to describe the pure elation that filled him to his gut when he saw the dark-haired man, but he also knew he was _not_ letting Gon know he was happy to see him. No matter how… _desperately_ he begged over the phone.

Hisoka pulls Gon into a hug that’s far too intimate for Killua’s tastes and he takes that as his cue to depart up the stairs. He refuses to chase any more than he has tonight. If Gon wants him, he’s going to come to get him.

He opens the door across from the stairwell, the one that connects to his bedroom actually, and calls out to them. “I changed my mind! Let me in!”

Killua is let into the game graciously, friends welcoming him into the circle and assigning him to a team almost immediately as if they were waiting and _knew_ he would come.

Hisoka, and his display in general, leave a bad aftertaste in his mouth. But he tries to forget about it and suck himself into the game. He _refused_ to be the one that approaches him under any circumstances.

And it feels like _years_ before he steps into the room, overnight bag draped over his shoulders.

“Hey guys,” He greets everyone cooly, and through such a casual greeting, he manages to draw the attention away from the game. A puppeteer, holding every string for all the little puppets.

They all surround him, like he’s one of their own, welcoming him to the house, asking him how his day was, treating him like the life of the party title he’d earned. 

“Gon, you should play,” Knuckle suggests, motioning to the pong table with wriggling brows, “I’m sure Killua would _love_ to get out of the game.”

Killua, in response to that, glares at Knuckle. His eyes widen and he sputters. 

“I-I just mean it didn’t seem like you wanted to play!”

“I _literally_ came in here ten minutes ago ready to play! I have _been_ playing!”

“It doesn’t mean you _want to_ —”

“I wouldn’t do it if I didn’t _want to_ Knuckle what the fuck?!”

“Guys stop _fighting_ ,” Ikalgo comes between them, “who gives a fuck.”

“I’m not fighting!” Knuckle exclaims, “I’m just, stating what I see!”

“I _wanted_ to play…” Killua murmurs, crossing his arms.

“I know Killua,” Shoot, who never really touches him, to begin with, pats his shoulder.

“Hey hey hey, isn’t…isn’t it almost time for the wrestling tournament?” 

_Wrestling tournament?_ Internally, Killua rolls his eyes.

“Hey, where’s Kurapika?” He asks, having completely forgotten about him amid the untamed environment of the house.

“With Chrollo,” Shoot removes his hand, heading for the door, “something about an important conversation?”

 _Great._ Looks like their conversation earlier did absolutely nothing. Kurapika was just as stubborn as Gon. _Damn._ Killua had forgotten about him yet again.

And it seems that the moment he remembers Gon is looking at him again, those eyes dipped in honey scanning his body, staring into his soul, waiting, _aching_ for a moment alone. Killua can tell he is. But he’s not one to talk. He wants it too.

“Gon, Killua, are you coming down?” 

They look away from each other. Gon speaks first.

“I actually wanna figure out where I’m sleeping and catch up before doing any of that if you know what I mean,” He says, and it’s an acceptable excuse.

“Makes sense. Killua?”

 _Oh, God_.

“I’m…still feeling nauseous.” He lies quickly.

“Oh, then definitely stay up here.” Knuckle nods. “Bye! Love you!”

Killua doesn’t have the energy to verbally respond to that, granting Knuckle a smile and a wave in response before all of them filter out, finally, _finally_ , leaving him alone with the man he’s been dying to have in his greedy, horny clutches since the morning. A morning that occurred what feels like _years_ ago.

Now all he had to do was get him into one of the more private bedrooms.

“So,” Gon picks up his bag, “why don’t you take me to where you’re sleeping?”

Killua deadpans. “Shut the fuck up.”

He smiles sneakily, following Killua to his bedroom of choice. They enter through the connecting door, and he’s thankful to see it empty. He rests on one of the bottom bunk beds.

“Well hey you,” Gon plops down dangerously close to him, kicking his overnight bag under the bed, “what’s going on?”

Killua gives him an incredulous face, looking around the room dramatically and waving his hands around him. “What the fuck do you _think_ is going on?”

The latter laughs at that before leaning back on his forearm, the one closest to Killua, before ducking under the top bed. Killua leans in his direction without a second thought, rests his head on his shoulder. 

“How was work?” He whirs.

“Boring. Lowkey was wishing that I was here. Glad you called; probably wouldn’t have been here otherwise.”

Killua’s face turns cherry red. “Oh.”

“You look tired,” Gon notes, “was it a rough night?”

“I threw up,” He says, blunt and to the point. 

Still blushing.

“Damn. So you got sick? I thought you weren’t gonna have any more until I came?”

“Bad choice of alcohol,” Killua sighs, “rum doesn’t agree well with me.”

“Well, I have good and bad news in terms of that.”

“Hm?” His eyebrows raise as Gon reaches into his duffel bag, pulling out something that could make his eyes water if he’s to be dramatic.

“Good news,” Gon squeezes the bottle of Titos vodka between his muscular thighs, “I brought your favorite.”

 _Yes, it was his favorite indeed_. It’s a surprise that Gon remembers it from their first night together after the club.

“Thank you,” Killua reaches out to drag his finger against the bottle, “can’t believe you remembered that.”

“Hard to forget how hard you were going at those shots that night,” A soft smile adorns Gon’s features and Killua involuntarily sinks further into his side, head sinking to his chest as he continues to draw patterns on the cold glass. That domestic, cozy feeling that he fears each time he’s with Gon appears then, making a home in his heart all over again.

 _Don’t_ …Killua warns himself, though he doesn’t stop by any means.

“What’s the bad news?”

“You look like you’ll vomit if I ask you to take a shot.”

“Uh, _no_. I can take a shot! I’m not a fucking pussy.”

“I have to _catch up,_ Killua. You can’t take as many shots as me. You’ll be obliterated. I’m not even sure if you should take _one_ shot.”

There was always a tendency to take care of Killua when it came to Gon, and for a lack of better words, it made him feel gross. Like he couldn’t take care of himself. As much as he didn’t want to cave in to him, he hated coming across as irresponsible even more. 

Though that’s exactly what he was tonight.

“…I’ll mix a drink with the cranberry juice downstairs. My only and _final_ compromise.”

Gon grins. “Deal. Let me get it for you.”

Killua lets him, this once. Just so he can air his chest out, shake off some of the heat he’s feeling in his presence. Disgustingly entranced, he is. 

He returns soon enough that Killua doesn’t have to ponder on whether Hisoka got to him or not. The cranberry juice is set behind him, cold from chilling in the fridge for hours. Killua takes his time mixing his Titos with the juice before passing it to Gon, who pours himself a few plastic Solo cup shots.

“You gonna need more?” He asks, sipping on his concoction as he watches the careful preparation.

“Oh for sure,” he nods, “just didn’t bring enough cups.”

“I dare you to do those five shots, three times.”

Gon looks at him with a knowing smile, a smirk of pure arrogance along his lips.

“You. Giving _me_ a dare. After all that protesting about the dare to make out with me in Hisoka’s closet.”

Killua’s face drops, and if he wasn’t enjoying it so much, he would dunk his entire drink on Gon’s head.

“You are the fucking worst.”

“Bottoms up,” He sings before taking his first shot. The rest follow shortly, and for the record, he does do the line a second time. His alcohol tolerance still amazes Killua, how he can take so many shots, and still feel the equivalent of a casual buzz.

“Mmm,” he hums into Killua’s shoulder ten shots later, voice soft in Killua’s shoulder; the place he has presently decided to lay his face, “that felt good. This feels good.”

“Would you consider yourself caught up?” Killua says before he cuts himself off with a jaunty, sudden burst of laughter, definitely in the territory of almost-but-not-quite-drunk after a full cup.

“Mmm, I don’t know, probably. Hey, hey: wanna go up there?” Gon says—almost slurs—before pointing at the top bunk parallel to them. Killua’s head sways to his right, following the long, toned arm pointing outward.

“Why?”

“I dunno,” Gon looks down to him, “more private than sitting out here in the open.”

 _Oh_. Killua thinks on it for only a few seconds, the thought of being closer to him a pleasing one. He nods, and the two of them make their way up the flimsy ladder, clambering into the top bunk. Killua can touch the ceiling with little to no strain. He brushes his fingertips along it as Gon slides in beside him, nudging Killua up against the wall perpendicular to him.

“Hey! This is a small bed,” he growls, hitting the man with an open palm, and rubbing the bruise undoubtedly forming on his ass, “It was supposed to be just for me, so be fucking careful.”

“Just make room,” Gon says casually, swinging Killua’s leg over his hip.

“Hey—!”

He protests, though Gon’s pelvis digging into his stops him promptly. A knee lodges itself by his ass, along with an arm that crosses to toy with his hair.

The only place for Killua’s hands to rest is over Gon’s shoulders. He’s not sure why he was about to complain in the first place, considering there isn’t anything necessarily wrong with this position and the possibilities it opens up.

The party rages on underneath them, an uproar echoing throughout the house that rises above the music for only a moment. Killua remembers wondering who was on the AUX earlier, but it’s the farthest thing from his mind now.

“Those wrestling matches are so stupid,” Gon whispers, ducking his head down to bring their lips an inch closer. Ah, yes. Normalcy.

“Yeah. I don’t like doing them,” Killua replies, eyes never leaving his mouth. His brain is slowly catching up for real. _Gon is here._ He can’t believe it. His cheeks burn with excitement at the reality of it all. 

“You’d probably win though,” He whispers.

“No, I wouldn’t. Stupid.”

“Just because you’re the scrummy doesn’t mean you’re bad at it.”

“But it’s not like my _favorite_ thing to do! I don’t even like _getting_ tackled anyway…” he mutters, turning away to cross his arms.

“ _Oh_ ,” The teasing lift in his voice makes Killua’s eyes twitch, “Killua Zoldyck doesn’t like to be tackled, huh?”

“Don’t you fucking _dare_ —”

“I’ll have to make use of this later…”

There’s a firm grip on his chin and he’s turned back in Gon’s direction, the man looking at him with undeniable hunger.

_Oh, here we go…_

“But for now…”

A beat passes and Gon eases his way in, and Killua glances down just in time to see his lips part. Killua prepares himself for impact, eyes fluttering shut and his heart pounding until the door below them flies open with gusto.

Gon retracts in an instant as the sound of the voices ringing in the room, placing a hand over Killua’s _mouth_ for some reason.

“Yo, where’s Gon?” One of the men asks. Killua wants to peer down and see who it is but his captor is adamant about him staying still.

“Dunno…maybe he’s on the other side of the house.”

Killua recognizes _that_ voice. Fucking Hisoka. 

“We should go look for him! Like, like Where’s Waldo but it’s where’s _Gon_.”

The three of them laugh and both his and Gon’s expressions falter, second-hand embarrassment consuming them. For something that stupid to come out of their mouths, Killua can only assume the three players—clearly not of Hunter University—are too drunk to figure out that the two of them are nestled in the top bunk.

“Well his bag’s here, maybe he’s somewhere around.”

“Fuck him; let’s go! Aren’t you a part of the next match, Hisoka?”

“Mmm, no fun without an audience,” Hisoka drones, “but sure. I’ll do it.”

Killua knows that the ‘audience’ comment is about Gon. He _knows_ it. And it shows in the monster grip that he suddenly has on Gon’s arm as the three of them begin to leave the room. Hisoka leaves first, mumbling some useless bullshit to the second person out the door, but the third person pauses before switching the lights off in the room and shutting the door behind him.

 _Great_.

“Maybe we should have announced ourselves…” Gon whispers, while Killua releases him, “because I’m not turning those back on.”

“We don’t have to,” Killua murmurs, rubbing his eyes, “what’s the difference between dark and light anyway?”

“I’ll tell you what the difference is.”

Fingertips dance along his thighs and spark a sensation so strong that Killua accidentally backs himself into the wall again. “What are you doing?”

Their slight interruption had brought him back to his senses. There was no way they could get away with anything sexual right now. Too many people had decided to store their bags in this room and the risk of being caught in a compromising position was too high. He knew for a _fact_ that Ikalgo and Meleron could walk in at any moment looking for him as well. Had he kissed Gon a few minutes ago, he would have forgotten that.

“You act like I haven’t done this to you before,” Gon takes a handful of his ass before tugging him back, “what’s up, Kil?”

 _Ignore that_ , he tells himself after the pet name leaves his lips and that treacherous hand dips under his t-shirt. “There’s _people_ downstairs, Gon. Too many. The only way I’m doing this is if we move or it’s 5 in the morning and everyone is asleep.”

“That’s too far away,” Gon whines it into his ear, rolling his hips into his thigh, “want you now.”

He sounds desperate and it’s music to Killua’s ears. It was almost laughable, considering this was everything Killua had wanted from the start, and now he’s pushing him away.

“We can’t,” He emphasizes, “seriously. We could move to one of the bigger beds later? I know half of those fucks are gonna sleep on the floor anyway—”

Gon flips them over so he can tower over his prey. Killua yelps before he’s tossed like a sock puppet, trapped under heady warmth and rendered powerless in seconds. Killua looks up at him frantically, only to be met with an impassive stare.

“You really think those _fucks_ are gonna remember me burying my dick in you after 6 straight hours of alcohol?” His voice has dropped to an echo of a growl and Killua stiffens. “They won’t know about anything that happened in this bed.”

“I…”

Gon dips down and licks a long stripe up the base of his neck, extending the motion to its farthest before moving to his ear. “It’s just you and me.”

“Hey…”

“They won’t see us.”

“ _Gon…_ ” His hand dips past the waistband of Killua’s boxers, curls around his weeping cock.

“Let me fuck you Killua,” he whispers again, the request dangling off his lips. Killua’s stomach pools with arousal, following each finger that drums along his rib cage. The embarrassing moan that breaks free from Killua’s chest is enough of an answer for Gon, who shucks his pants and undergarments off with haste. The rest of their clothes follow and Killua takes the time to shove them in a messy pile on the opposite end of the bed before Gon guides him back to their position.

“Gonna fuck you so good,” he whispers before delivering the kiss that should have had long before they ended up here. Killua hangs off Gon’s neck for dear life, lips working hard to keep up with him. The bitter aftertaste of Tito’s floods his mouth and Killua, for a moment, forget how much alcohol he’s had. Gon completely consumes him with every collision of their mouths, close to devouring. His hands met at the base of Killua’s pristine neck, pressing down gently.

Killua pulled away with a gasp cut short, Gon’s grip tightening.

“Like that?”

He gives a weak nod before Gon releases him, pushing his hair back.

“I’ll remember that, too.”

Oh _lord_. Killua’s cock throbbed painfully at that sentiment. Gon was always doing this shit, always awakening something new that he didn’t even know was living within him.

“I don’t have any lube,” Gon murmurs, “it’s down there,” he points to his bag, “and I’m not leaving you up here all desperate by yourself.”

Killua never wants him to stop talking. The dark-haired man draws his finger to his parted lips, eyes lidded as he murmurs the command. “Suck.”

His fingers enter his lover’s pliant mouth with ease and Killua clamps down like he was born to do it. His tongue dresses them with saliva, his gaze slow to match Gon’s. 

They come out with a pop, Gon’s aura glimmering with lust as he takes his middle finger and circles Killua’s puckering heat.

“ _Mmmngh_ ,” Killua bites down on his bottom lip when the lone, slick finger enters him. Gon sighs at the inevitable tightness, Killua always feeling unstretched even after a week of straight sex. He explored within him vigorously, thrusting in and out with practiced jerks of his hand, and his partner whimpers loudly, head knocking against the back of the bed.

“Better quiet down…wouldn’t want anyone to hear your sweet sounds would you?”

Killua would reply but he’s out of witty responses and comebacks. He’s fixated on the finger—no, _two_ fingers—corkscrewing themselves inside of him, brushing up against every inch of him, and unraveling his very being.

“Gon,” He sighs, reaching for his length and stroking weakly, “oh please, _please_ …”

“You think you’re ready?”

“Ye—“

“I don’t think you are,” he pulls back before adding a _third_ and making Killua’s hips jerk off the flimsy mattress.

A helpless cry follows as his ass lands on Gon’s lap instead of the scratchy sheets. _Oh, he must have moved,_ he concludes hazily. Through borderline teary eyes, he sees Gon’s wicked grin filled with lecherous intent. Killua, against their current best interests (or, maybe not), thinks this is the best thing he’s seen all day.

Gon drags his fingers out slowly. Killua’s hips rock at the loss of touch, yearning for so much more than he’s been given. Gon must see it. Hell, he can probably _smell it_ on him as he drags Killua’s hips forward. With ease, he pulls his cock out and aims for his destination before sinking in without warning.

“Ack—oh— _oh my god—_ “ Gon fills him better than he ever has, closing every crevice and gap within him until he bottoms out, leaving Killua a withering, twitching mess. With ease, Gon presses his sweaty chest to Killua’s before instructing him in a hushed voice to lock his ankles behind his back.

Killua follows his given instructions with love-drunk obedience he never thought attainable. It would be too simple to blame the alcohol. No, Gon had a completely different hold on him in moments like these. And it didn’t take much either. It never did. From the moment he cornered him in that bar, Killua was his for the taking. And he took and took and took. And all the poor little scrum-half could do was give what he could.

The man in question draws him back to the moment, back to the dick that sits unmoving in his ass. Gon keeps a steady pace at first, hips rising and falling gentle and slow as to stretch Killua further. All he can do is bury his face into the strong scent of cologne that lives in the crook of Gon’s neck…let himself slowly come undone.

“God, faster _please_ ,” Killua just about begs and Gon can do nothing but comply, taking hold of the pale boy and fucking into his hole with all he could muster.

They went at it like animals, desperate and wild and shaking the beds beneath them. Killua could hear the voices passing the bedroom every once in a while. It drove him crazy in a way he never thought it would. There were so many people out there that don’t know what’s playing out in the bedroom. While some played beer pong or wrestled or smoked, Killua hid in the darkest area of the house, his darkest secret taking him for all he is and fucking what’s left.

Gon took hold of his neck once more. Killua’s eyes fall onto the arm that flexes against it, following the path up to his shoulders, his face. He doesn’t stop the motion of his hips, kindle a sweet fire desperate to burst in Killua’s chest and stomach.

“ _Mmm Gon—_ “

The door swings open wide, slamming against the back wall and two silhouettes. Gon slaps a hand over Killua’s mouth for the second time that night; an attempt to keep the end of his moan silent and only shared between the two of them. It took everything Killua had to quell his last breath. Even Gon, with all his might, struggled to get a hold of the heaving of his chest. He carefully and quietly peered over the bunk bed’s railing, catching a glimpse of just who had interrupted. Killua can hear slurred words and low chuckles but isn’t in the right state to determine whose voices he was hearing. 

His eyes, still wide with panic, are overwhelmed with the sudden light flooding from the hallway. The only thing protecting them from being seen was the outstanding height they were currently at. Someone would have to crane their head all the way back to see, which was their savior last time they were walked in on.

The two people down below continue to converse with each other and Killua fixates on the sound of a zipper being pulled at. Probably an overnight bag. Hopefully, they’re just retrieving what they need and leave.

It’s the moment that Killua feels a bit of relief, that Gon decides to draw his hips back, cock sliding out of his wet heat at a slow, mortifying speed. Killua, utterly shocked and lacking his power to fight back (unless he wanted to risk being caught), could only submit to the torture that Gon decided to dish out. The evil smile makes a reappearance as he leaves Killua with nothing but the head of his dick, coated with spit and cum, nudging at his entrance.

 _No!_ Killua wishes he could shout. _Do not go back in do not—_

But he does, and Killua’s jaw drops at the return of the stretch. The wet squelch that hangs between them should have rung alarm bells, but his head was turning to static. Gon kept going just like that, fucking him thoroughly at snail speed while their guests continued as if obscene acts weren’t playing out right above their heads.

He’s never been this vicious in bed before. Killua’s eyes water, holding back a low groan at a particularly deep roll of Gon’s pelvis. He wanted—no, _needed_ them to leave. He was going to finish any minute at this rate, and he wasn’t sure if he was going to be able to stop it.

Soft lips graze along his neck and a muffled squeak barely makes it past his lips. Gon kisses him earnestly. _You’re doing so good_ , is what his face reads, and _god_ Killua can only hope he is. A hungry hand takes his cock again, ready to carry him to his undeniable end until he’s stopped by the sudden but reliving sound of footsteps vacating the room.

The moment the door is closed tight, Gon thrusts back inside with force.

“ _Fuck!_ ” Killua sobs.

“I’m gonna fucking cum,” He grunts before shifting Killua’s hips higher into his lap, “ _Fuck Killua_ that was so good.”

“Oh, oh oh please, ” Killua babbles helplessly in Gon’s arms, completely and utterly weakened. 

“You were so fucking _quiet,_ they didn’t even know I was fucking your little hole that entire time—“

“Gon _please_ please I’m gonna cum! Just finish me!” 

It’s his last request, his final plea. Gon pounds deep into him, cock brushing upon bundled nerves with perfect aim each time, hand beautifully synced as he pulls on Killua’s dripping length.

They finish just like that: together. Killua’s head hits the railing once more as his orgasm racks through him. His cum decorates Gon’s chest and stomach, something he would have normally controlled if he wasn’t so overwhelmed with pleasure. Gon lands one final thrust before his body shivers and his legs weaken. Killua feels himself being filled with hot, sticky fluid, and though he would normally be horrified that they didn’t use a condom, there’s something sexy about it tonight. Maybe the Tito’s is the culprit, but it’s a delightful consideration that he’s most likely the only one that’s been fucked like this tonight, _loaded_ like this. Gon is _his_ tonight. He came up here at one in the morning because of _him_.

And that’s all that fucking matters.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eep this the end....part 2 soon! :) my mind is kind of split with like, a lot of different ideas but i will update this asap! follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/slowlange)!!!! we cry there. that's it.
> 
> thank you for reading! <3


	3. second day

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> greed island: second day

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey all--sorry this took me so long! finals and writer's block you know, the devil.  
> welcome to night two! i hope you enjoy more gon x killua shenanigans :)
> 
> i sincerely hope you all enjoy yourselves! after forever, day 2...

Killua wakes up feeling fine the next morning. Unexpected, taking how much and how _quickly_ he drank into account. He blinks the crust from his eyes as he sits up, legs tangled tightly with Gon’s. He hadn’t forgotten a single detail of their night, a secret among a sea of prying eyes. Killua feels a warm pride wash over him, heart and mind now settled after hours of chaos.

The rest of the weekend would be easy. There would no longer be aching loss feeding on him, nor would he have to worry himself with the endless questions that lacked answers. He had Gon exactly where he wanted him. In his bed, by his side.

Drooling… on his shoulder.

 _God, gross._ Killua grimaces before taking a corner of the sleeping boy’s shirt and wiping his fluids off with it. He’s immediately reminded of the more tangible aspects of their night of passing. The scratches on his skin, the aching in his back, the _cum_ in his ass…

He _needs_ to shower.

Where is everyone else, though? Killua leans over the bedside railing. 

Gon stirs beside him, suddenly and quickly, and Killua startles where he sits. His eyes fly open as if he were having a nightmare, pupils flying about frantically before landing on Killua.

“Oh,” He smiles, yawns. _It’s cute…_

“Hi, good morning,” Killua greets him quickly. He’s surprisingly relaxed from being alarmingly woken up. 

“Hey. You’re here.” Gon looks at him in such a strange way and Killua feels squeamish underneath, “Wow, I almost forgot I came down last night.”

“You just drank too much.”

“Maybe.” The pads of his fingers reach to brush his cheek. Killua’s eyes widen, and he shakes him off immediately, seemingly the only one aware of where they are.

“People, Gon.” He whispers. To that he moves abruptly, shoving past Killua carefully and searching the entire room. Killua watches as he flicks his head about dramatically. Completely and irritatingly in character for Gon. He hates when he does this, completely undermines his worries and precautions. Because _he’s_ not that worried about having their secret affair exposed to their radically traditional rugby teams, so why should Killua?

And he had half a mind to tell him that to his face, really rub it in and make him feel bad about it, but he doesn’t. Time after time he doesn’t. And if he were a different person, completely aware of himself and lacking his natural stubbornness, he would admit that deep down, he asks himself why _he_ cares so much. The logic behind it all is flawed, considering they’re at this house, _right now_ , having a merged team getaway.

So why is it _really_ an issue if they hook up? 

It was a question and answer that Killua didn’t have the confidence to follow through with.

“No one’s in here,” Gon says after a moment before laying back down on the twin bed, “so come here and give me a kiss, yeah?”

He hesitates for a split second, before catching a glimpse of Gon’s wet tongue running over his bottom lip, and finally just lets himself relax into quick, smooth kisses.

“You taste good,” Gon gives him a growl that’s considerably softer than last night before his teeth tug at Killua’s bottom lip. “Morning breath too.”

“You’re insufferable.” Killua tastes the inside of his own mouth, disgusted by the remains of alcohol and junk food he’d never brushed away last night.

“I gave you a _compliment_.”

Killua’s stomach growls, and in an instant, he remembers that he’s supposed to be making breakfast.

“I have to make food.” He snatches his phone from the side of the bed. The device had nearly fallen through, left to plummet down to the bottom bunk, but deft reflexes saved the day. “I can’t believe I fucking forgot what time is i—“

Eight forty-nine.

“Still time,” he sighs, relieved. “There’s no way they’re awake right now.” There’s so much he needs to do. Fix food, shower, brush his _goddamn teeth._

“Oh!” Gon grins and Killua hates how devious it looks, “Don’t know if you remember this, but you promised me over the phone that you would help me with my homework in exchange for me coming here.”

He _what?_

“You’re a liar.”

“I would never lie about something like this. It would be a disservice to myself to lie.”

And it’s then that Killua wonders if this is even a vacation.

-

“You’re actually pretty good at this,” Gon murmurs, nuzzling his nose into the white tufts of hair that sat atop Killua’s head.

“You say that as if you’re any better,” Killua counters, huffing as he flips through the same set of notes he’d been staring at hours ago, searching through the chicken scratch that is Gon’s handwriting in order to find some kind of aid. “Your penmanship sucks, by the way.”

“I like to type.”

“Well, writing is a necessity. Do better.”

“Yeah okay, Mom.”

They were making steady progress through Gon’s work, for Killua didn’t want to back out of his promise, no matter the circumstances surrounding said promise. It was more sobering to look at calculus than it was waking up this morning, anyway. He enjoyed the way school threw him back into a sense of normalcy. It’s familiar feeling made him feel productive, and when he was feeling productive, he almost always felt better. He was here to have fun this weekend, yes. But in the back of his mind, he was sorting through what little he needed to do when he got back.

That was the difference between him and Gon; Killua could have his cake and eat it too, get plastered three days straight and come back strong no matter how bad the hangover was. Gon—and it’s something Killua has noticed often—has to completely separate himself. Can’t balance much, but puts everything and more into it when he’s focused and fixated on it. It’s just that Gon’s intense focus and Killua’s thrown one give the same results.

“Obviously your mom wasn’t that great at teaching you how to write,” Killua smirks to himself thinking he’s said the funniest thing yet until Gon responds.

“My aunt did her best.”

The papers in his hands still.

“Aunt?”

“Yeah,” Gon says casually, his fingers still trailing against Killua’s skin, “Mom died.”

“I’m so sorry.” His apology doesn’t do much for the sinking weight in his gut. Killua wishes, sometimes ( _most_ times) that he thought before he spoke.

“It’s fine.” Gon’s touch shifts to Killua’s cheekbone, the frame of his glasses pressing into the side of his face, “I know you probably assumed otherwise.”

“I don’t really… know anything about your family, do I?”

“Not a conversation I really want to have now, if that’s okay?”

And though Killua nods, guilt feeds on him. He and Gon aren’t that close besides physical intimacy, no. It’s completely within Gon’s rights to not want to have this conversation, his sideways comment aside, but it’s because of that factor alone that Killua suddenly wants Gon to be able to talk about it. Badly. Not just because he wants to know, but because it would ease his conscience of his words.

“No, yeah. It’s fine.” Killua adds in another apology for good measure because the last thing he wants is for Gon to feel a certain way about him. Like he wouldn’t care about these things, or he was without a soul. “I am sorry, though. Seriously. I wasn’t thinking when I said that.”

“I already told you it’s fine!” Gon throws his head back dramatically before he groans, “How were you supposed to know?”

“I dunno, but I shouldn’t have _said_ it.”

“Killua, just take it easy.” He pats the papers he’d dropped a moment ago, “Homework. Homework is very important.”

“I’ll finish it. What about _you?_ ”

“I did the quiz. Sort of.”

“Sort of?”

“Mmm, it’s not that important.” He averts his gaze, and Killua can guess that he probably answered with poorly educated guesses instead of referencing back to the notes and the textbook.

“You totally fucking botched it, didn’t you?”

“Killua I have like a B+ in the class.”

Gon’s study habits, as well as his attitude towards school, terrified Killua down to his bones. Partially conditioning from his family and siblings, yes, but also the piece of him deep down that wants to be the best at everything he does. It’s an attitude that’s very similar to Gon’s, but only on the field. Academics were where he somewhat fell behind.

“Oh my God, you’re so chaotic.” 

“It’s okay. I’m gonna be a professional rugby player one day, anyway. Grades are meh.”

“Yeah,” Killua huffs before pushing him away with an impatient hand, “You better be.”

As sarcastic as he is, deep down his stomach blooms with butterflies, erupting at the pure fact that if there was any truth to Gon’s statement, he would be. Without a doubt. 

They worked diligently after that. Calculus, one of the weaker subjects for Gon, was out of their hands in a decent amount of time. Killua was surprised at himself and his ability to get through it all without too many hiccups, being that he has to drill most of the concepts and equations in his head in order to perform well on tests. But then again, perhaps it was a product of all that effort finally showing itself outside of stressful test environments. Gon begged for Killua to be his tutor a countless number of times after that, until he was cut off with the threat of unfinished assignments.

Gon assured Killua after they’d completed most of his workload, that he would be able to get the biology done on Sunday, to which Killua couldn’t help but ponder curiously. The last time it was discussed, it seemed like it was dire that Gon spent the entire weekend with his nose in the books. He would have thought about it deeper, stayed on the thought longer, but he knew what happened when he did that last. And there was no reason for it, frankly. He was here. Killua could reach out and touch him, and Gon could give him a kiss right after. It’s what he wanted. So why worry about it?

With their stomachs happy and the alcohol replenished with fresh, shiny bottles that were left untouched the night before, the rest of the team had occupied themselves with day drinking and burgers, which Chrollo had thankfully offered to oversee the preparation of. It gave Killua more time with Gon, though it was short and sweet before they were interrupted by friends dying to play drinking games as if they hadn’t gone down the list less than twelve hours ago.

They separate for a while afterward, but it’s fine. It’s always better to come back after being apart for so long, nice to give and receive those faraway glances as they mingled with the others, laughing and completely oblivious to the tension bubbling like lava between the two of them.

It was when Killua was on a beer ball-winning streak, the sun beating down on his skin as he tried to aim his very last ball into the cup sitting across from him and take his fifth consecutive game, that he saw Gon appear from inside the house. He hadn’t seen him since he and his friends had relocated outside, hungry to play a much messier game and gain some fresh air all the same. But seeing him, after even just a little bit, is a pathetic shock to his heart, no different from the first time he’d ever laid his eyes on Gon. He almost forgot what he was doing for a moment, frozen midair much like last night when Gon had entered the room, his endearment acting as an immobilizer and rendering him completely lifeless and without purpose until he’s told to move. To breathe.

But this time, he’s not drunk. He knows exactly what it looks like, that his friends could read his body language and, maybe, put two and two together before he can make up an excuse for his burning cheeks and lack of action. So he throws the ball and watches as it nails the aluminum beer can across the way hard enough to dent before he takes a final swing of his own. 

Knuckle and Ikalgo cheer when victory arrives, and Killua puts in the effort to join them for a moment until he meets Gon again, a long, understanding stare shared between them. Gon wanted him. Wanted him now. 

“I’ll uh, be right back.” Killua nods to the house, “I just need a second. I’ll be back.”

“Don’t throw up again!” Ikalgo claps him on the back just as Gon slips back through the doorway. Killua loses him in a small crowd and he practically trips to catch up. He hasn’t any idea where Gon has disappeared to, or where he’s waiting for him to arrive. There was no hint, no directions given, and Killua almost wants to text him—

_Oh._

Killua pulls out his phone.

_Bathroom on the second floor._

He navigates through bodies like he’s a part of them and their flow. The bathroom on the second floor isn’t the usual go-to, considering that there are three bathrooms on the first floor and the basement. It’s a good hiding spot, he admits. And when he arrives, the area is much more deserted than the rest of the house, he’s almost overjoyed.

Killua knocks on the door three times, feather-light. Gon picks up on it, opening the door just enough for him to slip inside.

“Hey wh—”

He’s kissed almost immediately, pinned against the door, and completely engulfed in Gon. Scent, touch, passion, Killua could name more if he wasn’t so dizzy, more focused on returning the fervor.

“Hi.” Gon pulls from him, presses their foreheads together.

“You should start with that more often.” It’s all Killua can think to say, breathless and elated to have kissed him after what felt like days.

“You mean, not when we’re hiding in the bathroom?”

Killua purses his lips. “What do you need? I told my friends I’d be back.”

“I want to take you somewhere.”

 _Take him somewhere?_ A weight drops inside his stomach, the thought of Gon whisking them away so obviously and publically leaves a bad taste in his mouth. But it excites him nonetheless.

“Where…?”

“Surprise. I’ll tell you on the way.” Gon jingles his keys between them, “I’ll drive.”

“No duh you’ll drive. How do you expect to explain this to the rest of them?”

“There’s no wine left,” Gon shrugs. “I’ll just say we went down the hill to get some. We can grab it for real, right before we come back.”

“It doesn’t take that long to buy alcohol.”

“We’ll make something up.”

“Is it really that important that you have to risk causing a scene and drawing attention to us that isn’t needed?”

“If it’s for you? Always.”

“Okay okay, stop.” Killua waves his hands in Gon’s face, prompting him to back up. “Seriously. Where are you taking me?”

“I’m not telling you. I want to surprise you.”

“On a scale of one to ten, how serious is this?”

“…Six.”

 _At least he’s honest._ “On a scale of one to ten…” Killua dares to ask, “how upset will you be if I don’t come.”

“Seventy-two.” Killua scoffs at that, but Gon is concrete in his choice. “I really want to take you to this place. Please, Killua?”

“You’re drunk.”

“I’m sober. Swear.”

Gon presses closer, invading his space once more, and when he reaches to hold his cheeks in his soft hands, Killua knows he can’t really say no.

“Fine. You do all the talking.”

Gon grins, says just beneath his ear, “Yes, captain.”

“ _Don’t call me that._ ” He huffs, pushing on his chest. “Let’s go.”

-

Killua hadn’t been drunk, no, but he’s tipsy enough to be hyper-aware of every street sign they pass. He’s counted at least twelve signs so far, two of them being similar stoplight warning signs. They appeared back to back, both signaling the same light, and it’s the first time Killua asks himself, genuinely, why they choose to place them where they do.

Gon is mute beside him, hence why Killua has resorted to such pleasantries if he even can call this one. He’s been focused on getting them to their mystery destination this entire time, lips tightened into a thin line, a seemingly unbreakable silence from the boy who hasn’t stopped talking since they met.

It makes him wonder about the severity of what Gon has planned. He couldn’t get over how _quiet_ he was. The air in the car felt thin without his voice, so thin he felt nauseous. He toyed with the sleeves of his sweater, suddenly self-conscious in his shorts and wishing he could curl into a ball and disappear, rid himself of this fear and anxiety of the unknown. He hated how he’d get like this, sometimes. Like Gon’s texts, the smallest things would send him into unparalleled waves of emotions he couldn’t process, only released in the form of outburst. Cries for clarity. 

“Okay,” Killua decides to be honest, against his more impulsive reactions, “I need to know. I need to know _something_ about this. You’re scaring me.”

“Scaring you?” Hearing his voice is one of hopefully many reliefs.

“Yes. Scaring me. Why are you so quiet?” He dares to press into territory that he’d rather not touch, “Are you mad, or something?”

“Killua, I’m not mad. God no, I’m not mad. I swear.”

“Then what is it?!”

“Okay okay, we’re almost there. I’ll let you in.” Gon taps his fingers against the leather, “If you can answer this question, then you’ll know where we’re going.”

“What question?”

“What is your number one problem when you’re playing?”

Killua’s lips part, momentarily confused by the question.

“I…”

“You’ve already told me,” Gon explains as they continue to drive down the dirt road, “It’s your kicking.”

“Why are you bringing this—”

“ _You said_ , in the middle of October, that one of your _worst_ attributes when playing is that you can’t kick.”

“Okay? And what about it?”

“Well, I’m going to show you how I kick.”

And Killua isn’t sure whether he should be flattered or straight up offended by it. 

“You think I need _you_ to teach me how to kick?”

“Not necessarily,” Gon says, “I just have a good, consistent kick. I didn’t think it was something I needed to point out.”

Killua doesn’t believe that one for shit. Hell, he can’t believe _any_ of this. Here he was, completely unraveled and fearful that something had gone wrong, and Gon was potentially driving him to his _death_ , just for him to want to show off his fucking fancy kicking technique. As if Killua doesn’t know how to fucking _kick_. 

“So what, are you going to do, teacher? Should I be thanking you for taking time out of your life to teach poor little me?”

The smirk that spreads to Gon’s cheeks is the last thing Killua wants to see before he says, “Don’t tempt me. I’ll make you call me Professor Freccss next time we fuck.”

“I will jump out of this car before that happens.”

-

Gon’s car makes it to the small, isolated field in one piece. Killua tries to sustain his sigh of relief when the engine turns off but Gon hears him clear as day, tossing him a menacing glare while he’s at it.

“I didn’t invite you to insult my car.”

“I’m not insulting the car!”

“That sigh tells me everything I need to know!”

They exit and Gon locks the car with a swift maneuver of his keys, a movement that Killua manages to find himself hypnotized by every once in a while. He was still an avid lover of Gon’s hands and fingers, fond of watching them work and do idle, meaningless things that opposingly meant so much to him.

He’s lost in it for a moment, head braced on his shoulder, memories mingled with fantasies swimming around in his mind until Gon’s touch reaches him and he snaps out of it.

“Yeah?”

“You ready to go?” Gon says as he looks at him, an amused expression on his face, “it looks like I lost you for a second.”

He has two rugby balls and a pair of cleats that hang from two of his fingers. Killua doesn’t remember seeing them in the car, amused at Gon’s preparedness. 

“You didn’t,” Killua peels himself off the car, “just zoned out.”

“Doesn’t that mean losing you?’

“Gon, come on!”

They abandon the car, jumping the low wooden rail. Killua, per his own strange instinct, drops to his knees at the sight of the fresh green grass. “This almost looks like fake grass,” Killua grabs a fistful in his hands before laying on the ground. The smell and feel prove him wrong, without a doubt.

“Why are you acting like you haven’t seen grass before?” Gon drops the two rugby balls to the ground and Killua laughs softly.

“Something about this grass is nice,” He says between bubbly giggles. He watches as Gon’s face changes, gross warmer at the sight of him spreading out amongst nature. Almost immediately, Gon comes nearer and kneels down to meet his face, turned to the sky.

“I’d like to kiss you,” he says, “is that alright?”

“You don’t have to ask _now_ ,” Killua murmurs, still a smile on his face, though it seems that Gon likes to make a pattern of choosing the wrong times for spontaneity, “it’s not like there’s anyone around.”

“Yeah, for once.” Gon closes the space between them, and both their eyes flutter shut upon contact. The sensation of Gon’s lips blooms from his chest down to his toes, the freedom of kissing out in the open exhilarating.

A hand reaches to cradle his chin and Killua moans quietly as they continue to move together, friction and intensity building to the point where Killua can feel himself expanding in his shorts. But, as always, Gon stops them before they can get there.

“Your mouth…” He whispers while shaking his head in disbelief, and Killua grins.

“I know. Are you gonna teach me how to kick, or…”

“Maybe if you get off your ass.” Gon gives his hair a slight pull before rising off his knees and walking away. Killua huffs as he gets up, following close behind as they travel further away from Gon’s car.

“There’s like, a little makeshift field up ahead,” Gon says after a couple of minutes of walking uphill, “they have goal posts and everything.”

“How did you find this place?”

“I uh, looked for it beforehand,” Gon hand crosses to brush at his neck, “after I decided to come.”

“Wha…?”

“I mean I wanted to steal you away for a little, and pay you back for the lesson back in September.”

“What lesson?” And it takes half a second for Killua to remember, but he does. And his stomach _drops_ , because why did Gon feel obligated to pay him back for something as small as that little hand grip lesson? If the roles were reversed he probably, no, definitely, wouldn’t have thought it out this far. And maybe Killua had been so focused on treating Gon like a friend that he didn’t even consider that Gon could want him that way. This whole thing suddenly felt much too intimate for him.

“Remember now?” Gon grins. Killua frowns.

“Yeah. Right.”

“Did I say something?”

“Nothing,” Killua’s hands find a home in the pockets of his shorts, “don’t you just think that this is…a lot?”

“A lot?”

“Like, _too much_. You don’t need to pay me back for the little tip I gave you,” He says.

“I want to.”

“But you don’t _have to_.”

“Can’t I just do this for you?” Gon sounds exasperated, practically begs, “You’re so bad at letting me do things for you when it’s not fucking, sexual favors or something.”

“Sex is different! That’s what we’re, _doing_ this whole thing for.” Killua’s head twinges in pain, “Like, we started seeing each other for sex. And, the company? I guess?”

“I _still_ ask why I can’t just _do something for you_.”

Killua crosses his arms and turns away from Gon, suddenly very interested in the grass and dirt patches that carry them forward.

“Fine. I’m done talking about it. Sorry.”

“Gon it just doesn’t make sense to me…” Killua feeds into guilt, “why you want to do so much for me.”

“I _like you_ , Killua. Don’t you like me too?”

“I do! It just feels like doing stuff like what you do is for…” 

“For what? Couples?”

“Yeah. Couples.”

“Killua,” Gon sighs, “we don’t have to have a label to do shit for each other. I know you don’t want to be in a relationship right now. That’s fine.”

“But when you do stuff like this, it feels like it isn’t! It just feels like you’re trying to push me in that direction. All the buying food, and giving me stuff, and taking me on mini-dates—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa, I just wanted to pull you away for a second. Get some alone time and do some rugby shit. I didn’t say this was a date.”

“I—well that’s what it _feels_ like,” Killua sputters, “I—”

“Killua, this isn’t a date. I’m… I’m okay with not being boyfriends. I just do stuff for you because I like you. I’m being nice.”

“You’re telling me you’re 100% okay with the possibility that we may never be in a relationship?” Killua challenges, fully aware that despite what Gon _says_ , his actions always tell a different tale. 

They reach the top of the hill and Gon smiles quietly before answering, “I’m here for the ride. Whatever happens, happens. You’re behind the wheel. It doesn’t matter what I want.”

“But if you want a relationship this isn’t going to work. Those kinds of feelings can’t be suppressed, Gon.” Killua’s been there. He’d know.

“What I want and what I can handle aren’t the same thing. I’ll be happy with whatever we do together. A relationship doesn’t have to be an end-all point, Kil. Not if you don’t want it. I just like to spend time with you.”

He tosses one of the rugby balls he’s been juggling in his direction. 

“But you know, I like to fuck you too.”

Killua flushes awkwardly at that last part, but it barely lasts. Gon’s words, they’re more calming than anything he’s ever said before in regard to their status. It’s one of too many guilts that’s been relieved, but he still calls it a victory in terms of their internal conflict and communication. There have been countless times where he’s had to defend his reasoning for not wanting to dive back into something serious. But here Gon is, and he’s not even asking for a reason. He could laugh, cry even. It’s all too good, _Gon’s_ too good.

“Come on, lemme show you how to actually kick a rugby ball.” He pinches Killua’s side before walking ahead of him. Killua follows him without having to exert a single ounce of effort. 

Gon takes them near the center of the field, not too far from the worn goal post that stands out like a sore thumb, covered with spots of rust and white. It’s really just an open space otherwise; no paint to mimic a turf field, no indication of use, nothing. But, it’ll do for kicking.

“Do you think anyone uses this?” Killua asks, despite having a feeling that no one really does.

“I dunno,” Gon shrugs, “it’s kind of isolated, hard to find. Figured it was perfect for our situation, though.”

“No, no it is,” he agrees. “It’s nice.”

Killua can’t remember the last time he took time to practice his kicking technique. Thankfully, he didn’t have to worry about it on the field, Knuckle acting as the best kicker on the team. A well-rounded rugby player has skill in a majority of the elements of the game: tackling, kicking, passing, tactical knowledge. Killua has three of those four down, along with the athleticism that bleeds out of him. There was no _reason_ to perfect kicking. No reason, except to be better than the person he was before. 

Gon hands him the pair of cleats he carried up and Killua laces them up quickly, eager to get going. The familiarity of the hug the material has against his feet is comforting as he eases into shoes that aren’t his.

“Those are my old ones,” Gon nods to his feet.

“ _Old ones?_ Didn’t you just start playing?”

“Well, I played soccer,” Gon explains. “When I was in high school.”

“Were you any good?”

“Very good,” A smirk, and then he’s focused again. “Now, you ready?”

“As I’ll ever be.” Killua drops the ball to his feet. “So, what do you want me to do, teacher?”

“Kick it.”

Killua deadpans but Gon looks at him as it’s obvious. “How am I going to perfectly assess your kick if you don’t demonstrate it?”

“You’re acting like you haven’t watched me at practice for the past month.”

“Watching you from afar is going to be different than right now. Before, I could just see that your kick was _ass_ . Now I can see _why_.”

“Can you shut that fuck up!?” Killua growls, picking up the ball again before taking the routine steps into a kicking position. Five steps back, two steps to the side. 

“I was just kidding Kil!” Gon calls out, but Killua ignores him in favor of setting up. Gon’s teasing, though irritating, does little to shake him when it comes down to it. Plus, he knows his kick isn’t the _best_ that there ever was.

He turns the ball vertically, parallel to his leg as he prepares for the dropkick. He lets the ball bounce against the grass repeatedly, watches as it jerks in every direction except straight up into his arms. It’s a problem he’s always had since the beginning, never being able to get the ball to move the way he desired to.

Regardless, he takes the plunge, dropping it one last time before shifting all his weight on his left leg and letting his right swing through the air and launch the ball into the sky.

They both watch expectantly as it soars above both him and Gon, but nowhere near the field goal and into the bundle of trees on the far left side. Killua sees Gon’s shoulder relax, arms falling to his sides before he looks back to say, “I know what your problem is.”

“Oh do you?”

“Yeah, but get the ball first, and then I’ll show you.”

Killua narrows his eyes, kicking at one of the dirt patches before trudging towards the ball. That was one of his worst kicks ever. No denying. It was embarrassing to watch it play out with Gon around, even under the guise of this being a learning experience. Killua couldn’t stand to be anything less than perfect around him. 

When he returns, Gon is sitting in the grass, clicking his toes together like a child. Killua sighs loud enough to catch his attention before he sends the rugby ball hurtling towards his face.

“So what’s the problem?”

Gon catches the ball easily, and Killua purses his lips, annoyed.

“Your placement is all wrong, basically.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re kicking with the front of your foot.” Gon bends to tap the heel of his cleats with confidence that makes Killua’s stomach churn. It’s irritating, how much of a know it all he is, and what’s worse, is that what he’s saying might actually be right. 

“Aren’t you supposed to kick with the front of your foot?”

“No, the side.” Killua purses his lips as he continues, “You get a better lift on the ball, and aimed kicks are easier.”

Gon takes a couple of steps back and gives Killua some room.

“Just try it. I promise it’ll work.”

And when he smiles, there’s a crack in Killua’s facade that startles him. Killua wasn’t the type to take constructive criticism well, under any circumstances. All criticisms he’s received as a rugby player have either been strategically glossed over or received in a rather passive-aggressive manner. But strange enough, though he really should be expecting this by now, Gon doesn’t leave him with that irritation and anger that would be festering in his gut. Coach Wing would trigger that. His old high school coach would too. But when the showiest rugby player he’s ever met does it, the normal twinge seems obsolete. 

So he tries it, feels like there isn’t going to be an opportunity to properly receive criticism like this again. Killua resets with Gon’s encouraging gaze following as he takes a few steps back. Just kick with the side of your foot, right? Sounds weird in theory, but Gon’s kick is better and more consistent than his at the end of the day. He’d be stupid to not listen to what he says after witnessing it himself.

His leg bends back when the ball touches the ground. And when it makes contact, the side of his foot tucked underneath the rugby ball, it’s path is direct; a straight, elegant arc in the sky until it passes through the center of the goalpost.

Killua, brows raised and mouth formed into a perfect ‘O’, looks back to Gon, whose grin has grown impossibly wider.

“Told you so,” He utters with a knowing twinkle in his eyes that gets Killua’s heart racing with little effort. “Wanna try it again?”

He laughs, eyes flickering between where the ball had landed and Gon, before responding with a smug, “Give me the other ball.”

-

When they return, it doesn’t seem like they were missed. Though they’re welcomed with open arms when they spot the gallon size bottles of wine that the two of them had purchased in Gon’s hands. The sight of it is enough to distract from the fact that they’d been gone for at least three hours, and Gon and Killua gave themselves knowing eyes as a weight is lifted off Killua’s shoulder.

He and Gon maintain eye contact until they make their inevitable split and Killua returns to his friends, who are on an opposite plane than the rest of the house.

“How did you just disappear for three hours?” Zushi follows him, stressed, angry words pressing against his back as he weaves through sweaty bodies to get to the kitchen, “I mean seriously, how could you not tell any of us you were gonna step out for so long?”

“Zushi,” Ikalgo settles in one of the seats at the bar, “you’re the only one freaking out right now. The rest of us are fine. It’s not that deep.”

“But what if something happened to him, and we didn’t know?!” Zushi paces along a circular path around the bar, eyes quickly following his movements, “We’re all basically drunk! We wouldn’t have been able to help him!”

“You’re not his _mom_ ,” he replies, “plus, he and Gon went together. Gon could have helped if anything happened.”

Zushi’s face sours at the mention of Gon and Killua’s face shifts, confused at the change.

“He’s not exactly reliable, is he?”

“Reliable?” Killua pipes up now, “neither of us were drunk, anyway, Zushi, and we’re fine. We just went to get some wine and had some car trouble. His car isn’t necessarily the best.”

When Shoot clears his throat, ready to weigh in on the argument as well, Zushi waves a hand in the air that might as well be his white flag. “Whatever, whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re not drunk enough,” Knuckle hands him a cup of the freshly opened wine, “you’ve had a pole up your ass all weekend.”

Killua doesn’t know why it happens now, but the mention of something up someone's ass turns a switch on inside, sends a spark down to his cock. His head flickers to where Gon was when they came in, disappointed to see he’s moved elsewhere. 

“I don’t like getting drunk,” Zushi huffs before pushing the offering away, “I just wanted to hang out with my friends but you guys keep, doing different shit, I dunno.”

“Well, if we’re all getting drunk, and you’re not, you automatically become the mom for the night. _So_ ,” Knuckle places it in front of him this time, letting go completely, “get drunk, and then there’s no mom friend. Problem solved.”

Killua remembers this talk, the one he received from the upperclassmen in his freshman year when he was rejecting drinks left and right at his first party. As he watches Zushi’s determined spirit hold up against classic peer pressure, he almost misses his freshman year. Back when his morals weren’t as cloudy and it was easier to hide behind a curtain of innocence. It doesn’t matter how many times he blacks out, how many blunts he burns through. He wants to go back to those days. Desperately. 

But there’s only one person to blame for where he is now. And even that person would disagree with how he feels now. 

“Shot, Kil?”

Ikalgo is holding it this time. Killua takes it, throws his head back, and sucks it down in a single breath. His friends cheer. Zushi looks at him with a mix of admiration and a fit of jealousy that feels all too familiar as Killua sits on the other side of the mirror. He wants to do it, be a part of the excitement. Killua wishes he had the words to tell Zushi to stay jealous, to admire the life they all chose from afar. It’s safer there, in fantasy. 

The night stretches on afterward, his group lounging around in the kitchen, swapping between shots and heavy cups of red wine. Killua doesn’t drink much, not really feeling it after the sudden spill his mind took. He took a shot or two where he felt it was appropriate, not wanting to bring any question to his sudden change in mood. But hilariously, he’s longing for weed. No one he knows has any, no, but he’s tempted to trek up to Chrollo’s room, where he’d been staying for a majority of the day yet again, and ask for an eighth. There’s no contemplating on whether Killua would drop forty dollars on cannabis right now. 

But he doesn’t get the chance when he’s brought into a conversation surrounding the new season and the brand new plays that Wing wants to introduce before they reach the championship level tournaments. He doesn’t mention anything about his adventure today and the time they took to perfect Killua’s kick, though he wants to badly. It isn’t even a matter of his own pride in himself for jumping over what seemed like an impossible hurdle, but there was an urge to talk about Gon that fueled him as well. As much as he valued their secret and never wanted it to get out, the moments where he wanted to gush and drool over him would come every once and a while, and he wanted nothing more than to indulge. There were limitations to what they were doing, but that didn’t change the fact that there were still feelings that Killua was experiencing. 

They migrate to the living room as the clock nears, chittering amongst themselves as they weave in with the crowd that had established itself. Knuckle finds them an empty space to chill in, and Killua lets his gaze wander, motivated by the sole possibility of spotting Gon somewhere in this mix. He’s sitting near the area they’re about to sit in, expression relaxed and a calm smile on his face as he listens to two of his teammates ramble on. The drum beats in Killua’s chest, vibrations resonating throughout the rest of his body as he sits down beside Knuckle. He almost stretches his hand out to wave but takes it back in an instant, fingers curling against his palm in a tight fist.

“Zushi, you’ve never kissed anyone, right?”

“I—” His face burns, red tinting tan skin, “Why are you bringing that up?!”

“I dunno! We were talking about fucking and hooking up and you were silent!”

“I’ve done stuff with people.” He huffs, embarrassed as he looks away.

“Not if you haven’t kissed them,” Knuckle smirks down at him, “come on, you don’t date? You don’t even have a little crush?”

“Can we move on? Please?” Zushi voice hikes up an octave. Knuckle must still have some of his empathy intact, for he nods and pats him on the shoulder before uttering a quick apology.

“Okay, okay, fine. We’ll bully Killua now.”

Killua could have gotten whiplash from how quickly the assault changed. “Me?” He says before looking at him strangely. “What did I do?” Does he even _want_ to know what he did?

“You never fucking told us about that guy from the club you left with last month.”

A chorus of ‘ooo’s and childish teasing follow Ikalgo’s statement. 

“You told us you’d spill, and you didn’t. Don’t think that I forgot!”

Blood drains from Killua’s face and it takes everything he has not to glance at Gon with pure horror from the opposite side of the room. It seems that Killua is the only one slightly worried though, as Gon takes a sip of his drink idly in the corner of his eye without a semblance of fear.

What is it like to be him? To be so calm in the face of confrontation?

“Kil, you haven’t told us _anything_ about him.” Knuckle takes hold of his shoulder and shakes him violently before turning to the group once more, “I’m telling you guys, he’s been a mystery to everyone. _No one_ knows who this guy is.”

“Well, why haven’t you guys just looked through his phone?”

Killua’s eyes widen. “ _Absolutely not_.”

“Well, what’s the big secret for, Killua?” A Phantom Troupe team member asks, “is he ugly?”

“He’s not ugly,” His cheeks redden and he fights the urge to look at Gon yet again, “no. No way.”

He wasn’t even sure why his friends were choosing to bring that up _now_ , exposing him in one of the worst ways they could think of. The Phantom University team didn’t need to know his business on any level, especially the one that contained matters of his love life. Then again, they are drunk for the second night in a row. Perhaps it’s way beyond their capability to keep their mouths shut and be aware.

But despite the circumstances, it doesn’t the fact that they’re making a scene, causing more people to filter into the room, curious of what was unfolding in the living room. Killua’s gut deepened with each person that entered, scrambling to find some kind of diversion or distraction so he can get out without looking stupid, but the chances of success skim down fast. 

“Show us a picture of him,” Ikalgo slurs.

“I don’t have one! He was just some guy that I met this one time!” Killua exclaims. “T-The sex wasn’t even good!”

He doesn’t mean to say it, but Gon’s head shoots up, rewarding shock replacing his poker face, and it becomes a part of a plan he hadn’t thought of. 

_“Oh shiiiit !”_

There’s an uproar at that and it sends chills up Killua’s arm, a foreign mix of excitement and adrenaline burning through him.

“Damn, Killua, did him filthy,” Knuckle huffs as he swirled his cup in his hand, “what? Did he finish too fast?”

“I-I don’t remember the details,” He stutters, completely aware of Gon, who sets his cup down on the floor and leans forward, “he just… didn’t do it for me.”

“Yeah you were pretty fucking drunk that night,” He laughs, “have you talked to him since?”

“Just a text here or there. We didn’t talk much after, or set anything up, really.” 

He’s going to end it there, positive that this alone will satisfy his friends enough to veer their attention elsewhere, but an idea comes to mind that he simply _can’t_ resist once it fleshes out.

“He’s a pretty shitty texter if I’m being honest.” 

“ _Damn_ , really?”

Gon’s brows raise in Killua’s peripheral, and he holds back a laugh.

“Yeah. Really bad. Sometimes he just straight up ghosts me.”

“You deserve better, Kil.”

“We weren’t that serious anyway, but you’re right.” He shrugs, “Don’t know why it’s so hard to reply to a text.”

It’s with that that the situation calms, people occupying themselves with other mindless distractions and with whatever party game was next in line for the night. But the room melts away as soon as he has the opportunity to glance over fully at Gon, who has completely abandoned his alcohol and any sense of secrecy as he glares directly at him.

Killua can’t resist the grin that spreads over his face, covering his mouth as he giggles. He can’t take this seriously. Obviously, it was all a joke, a jab at Gon’s slightly bad behavior, as well as food for his petty attitude towards his nonchalant exterior. To an extent, he _wanted_ him to care, after all. It was more fun that way.

He’d been so lost in the layer of vengeance that settled in his gaze, that he almost missed the vibration of his phone in his pocket.

_Bathroom._

His last ‘bathroom’ text appeared not too far above this one. Gon is up and gone as soon as Killua glances up. Each step he takes feels heavier on Killua’s conscience until he disappears. Minutes later, with wobbly legs, Killua stood from where he sat and stepped around the people that had sat around him on the floor. He followed his own phantom footsteps from earlier today and the closer he got, the quieter it became.

When he reaches the top of the stairs, Gon isn’t waiting inside. Instead, he’s leaning against the doorway, arms crossed in a tight pretzel. His leg that bounced impatiently slowed at the sight of him.

“Hey,” Killua gives him an awkward smile, “I was kidding down there. You know that, right?”

“I know,” Gon answers cooly, body unfolding before he reaches for the doorknob beside him, “but I still need you in the bathroom.”

“In the bathro—…”

Upon first glance, he didn’t notice it, but Gon’s eyes shine over with sexual prowess that takes the life from Killua’s legs, flush rushing up to his cheeks. 

“Just come here, yeah?”

Killua remains still.

“Don’t worry,” he coaxes further, “I just wanna show you something.” 

The tone of his voice is even, a thin layer of ice lining his every word. Killua can predict what’s going to happen as he walks past the door that Gon holds open for him, but it hasn’t exactly hit home yet. 

Gon slams it shut behind him, the party and the people that inhabit it an utterly worthless secondary thought. Deft hands switch the lock on the knob.

“Gon—”

He doesn’t finish that sentence. Gon drives him against the wall with an amount of strength he would probably use during a full tackle drill before he can get the second word out or think about the third. 

“What are you—”

His hands fiddled with his belt with haste. The events are spilling into one, melded moment. His pants and boxers pool at his ankles, Gon bending down to his knees before him.

“Wait—”

“Shut the fuck up.” 

Killua stares down at him with a dazed look, hands curling into his hair though he questions it all. Gon’s tongue slithers up Killua’s semi, leaving a cold wet trail in its wake. He gasps, the chill rendering him weak. More blood rushed to his cock almost instantaneously.

“Gon—”

“The sex wasn’t all _that_ , huh?”

Killua moans when he swallows him down completely, tongue following the downward path his mouth takes.

“It _sounded_ like it was above average last night.”

“ _Oh…_ ” He shudders. Perhaps this is the kind of reaction he wanted when he said what he said back in the living room, secretly. Knowing how to push the buttons of his impulsive, short-tempered partner was probably one of the most formidable skills he’d learned over their short time together. Gon attacks him with wet fervor, hums delightfully as Killua’s knees twitch out and towards his chest. 

“You like that, right?”

Killua grinds desperately into the suction Gon creates, hoping that suffices as an answer. He doesn’t even want to know what he looks like right now with his pants hanging loosely at his feet, barely able to hold himself up if not for the grip on Gon’s hair. 

Gon pulls out when Killua lets out a rather loud moan, pressing a kiss to his reddened head before standing up.

“Bend over.”

“Bend…bend over?” Killua fumbles his words. There’s nothing to blame for it, except for the way his stomach drops. He doesn’t even have the energy to put toward how silly he probably looks, hands slighting guarding his exposed body as he waits for what’s next. 

“Yeah,” Gon points to the bench (of course there’s a bench) sitting idly in the corner of the bathroom. “Over there.”

“I—”

“ _Now._ ”

Killua would be a liar if he said that drop in tone didn’t drop a tub of gasoline on the fire that already roared within him. Gon follows behind, gaze glowing hungrily and burning into Killua’s back as he finishes removing his pants, shoving them to the side with an adamant push of his socked foot. Gon waits patiently not too far away as he bends over and braces himself against the wooden bench for him.

“Stick that ass out for me a little more,” He says before taking hold of his hips with eager, rough fingers and rocking them in his direction. Killua loses his grip on the bench, though only momentarily, and scrambles to fall back into position. His cock floats painfully beneath him, a throbbing mess, coated and dripping with spittle and pre.

“Can I suck you off?” Killua looks back with wide eyes as Gon pulls a bottle of lube from his pocket.

“Nah, you don’t get to do anything this time.”

“Why not?”

“You’re getting the royal treatment tonight,” Gon snatches his snowy hair for himself and forces his face near the ground, “then you’ll have nothing bad to say afterward.”

“Gon, I was _kidding_.” And he meant it. Their first night together was unforgettable; riddled with passion and pleasure that Killua couldn’t shake for weeks, the only cure being Gon. Again, and again, and again. 

“I know. But I still have to punish you, don’t I?”

 _Punish?_ Perhaps he’d pushed a bit harder than he thought. “I’ve never seen this side of you before.”

“Do you hate it?”

Killua doesn’t have to think about that, letting his dick do the talking. “No.”

“Good. Now keep your head down.”

A fierce slap to his ass seals the command and Killua is reduced to gasps, biting down on his sore bottom lip. The sensation is soothed over by the thick fingers that find their way inside of him, imitating the same motions and stretch from last night but feeling so much _better_ than before as Gon corkscrews his fingers and strokes his walls.

“ _Mmmng!_ ” The sound escapes him just as Gon shoves his free digits into his mouth, curling over his bottom teeth and pulling his jaw down.

“Yeah let them hear you this time,” He growls, his voice close to his ear and Killua gasps heavily before moaning again, “let them hear what a fucking slut you are for me.”

“Go—”

“Let them know what a fucking cockslut you are for some _mediocre dick_.”

“Go—on…” Killua murmurs his name around the fingers that obstruct his speech, manages to get the sound out before he lets his jaw go slack. He’s thankful tonight is more chaotic than last night, thankful that they— _he—_ hopefully won’t be heard. He has a feeling that tonight will amount to something much more ferocious, in terms of what’s needed to feed Gon’s ravenous appetite.

Three, then four fingers fill him and leave him a writhing mess beneath Gon’s weight. He can’t open his eyes, can’t even bring himself to wipe at the sweat that’s beginning to form at his hairline. His hands have glued themselves to the wood, unable to move, for he feels as though he may collapse if he lets go. He’s sure he’s never reached four fingers before, even when he’s alone. And though Gon pushes him past his limits, he doesn’t feel anything but turned on.

“My little pillow princess…” Gon hums before his fingers vacate his hole and mouth and Killua pushes back, horribly empty and desperate and clenching around nothing but air. A tug at his hair spins him lengthwise, parallel to the bench. Gon squeezes tight for a moment before releasing and pressing a kiss to Killua’s spine. Killua shuddered at the sensation, the unraveling of the tension atop his head mixed with the chill Gon’s lips sent down to his cock. 

“So obedient.”

“I won’t be in a second if you don’t fuck me.”

“You will be if you don’t want me to leave you here hanging,” Gon tears the condom with his teeth, the sound echoing against the bathroom walls and sending Killua’s heart into a frenzy. 

“ _Hurry,_ ” He heaves, letting his cheek flatten against the wood. “Please, I’m ready.”

“Tell me how ready you are, hm?” Gon’s hands settle at his hips. “Even better, tell me what you’re ready for.”

Killua chews his lip before letting out a wet sigh, “I want you to fuck me.”

“Hm?”

“I want you to _fuck me_ , Gon.” 

A satisfied huff of approval is all Killua hears before Gon’s cock, which had been prodding gently at his hole, shoves in. Killua reaches to cover his mouth but Gon stops him with more permanent intent, pulling his arm to hook it behind, trapping it. Staggered gasps spill from his lips as Gon pushes in with little to no restraint, selfishly taking him whole. 

“Good?”

“ _Mmmnghmn—”_ Is all he can muster before Gon fucks him like a doll, dry and without an ounce of remorse. Killua hates to think about it, but this is how he likes it best. For Gon to give him exactly what he wants without an ounce of remorse or empathy. It’s just like him. He feels good inside; core burning with pleasure, skin tingling to the point where it’s numb. Gon’s grip on his arm is harsh, will probably leave a mark; a bruise, if he’s lucky.

“Gon—” He stutters suddenly, speech barred by the pure force of Gon’s thrusts, “I-I want a hickey—”

At the mention of a hickey Gon stills, slowing till he’s practically immobile. “You’ve never asked me for one.”

“I wanna look—” Killua pushes back against Gon’s length with urgency and desperation to get back to it, because _why did he have to stop?_ “I wanna look tomorrow morning.”

He can feel Gon laugh behind him, massaging his hips. “Where do you want them?”

“Anywhere but the neck.”

“I’ll have to flip yo—”

“Against the window.”

They both turn to the tall window beside them, clear as day, the main provider of the sparkling moonlight that shined into the bathroom. 

“Should I?”

“ _Please Gon_ ,” Killua amps it up, craning his body to face his, “I want you to fuck me on the window.”

Wordless, Gon pulls out of him and moves them to their next destination. Killua isn’t sure why he chose the window instead of a more doable option. The shower, maybe. Or even the floor. But he enjoys the excitement that glimmers in Gon’s eyes, loves to please him this way. Right now, at this moment, he’s not afraid of being seen. All that matters is that Gon’s eyes never stop shining.

It sounds romantic in his head. He doesn’t care. 

The coldness of the window spreads to the entirety of his back, and he would have jumped from the shock if Gon hadn’t been steadying him with his entire body weight. Held up by raw strength, only to be lowered back onto his cock.

A weak whimper escapes him and he glances down at Gon to search for his lips, but they’ve already latched onto the side of his neck, leaving dangerous kisses down the thick of it.

“Watch the neck—” he manages to get out just in time for Gon to cut him short with another deep thrust.

“Don’t worry about it,” Gon grunts, keeping his momentum, “just relax.”

Killua can feel an orgasm at bay when he does just that, a long moan spilling from his mouth as Gon’s thrusts never reach the speed they were at before, capped at a slow languid pace that drags everything out of him before throwing it all back into place. He clenches around him with each reentrance, and Gon gasps one particular time at it, leaning back from the crook of his neck to drink in the sight of him. Killua, normally, squirm under his gaze, embarrassed with such an important pair of eyes on him. But all he does is stare back, despite being and feeling more degraded than he’s ever been, spit running down the side of his mouth and juices dripping out of his ass.

“You feel so good around me,” Gon barely gasps, “I can’t even hold it anymore, I’m gonna cum.”

“Okay, okay just make it quick I’m close too,” Killua responds, and suddenly Gon’s initial goal to drag this out and punish him for his teasing words is thrown out the window they’re plastered against. He’s brutal to the end, thrusting fast and abusing Killua’s hole while leaving him with wet, painful reminders all over his chest and neck. Killua knew there were hickeys on his neck, there _had_ to be the way Gon was coming at him. And he should care, and he should stop him, but his cock hurts _so much_ and he just needs to cum—

Killua reaches between their sweaty bodies and takes a hold of his prick, stroking with sloppy quick flicks of his wrist until he’s cumming in ropes with a single wilted cry on his tongue at the crash of his climax. Gon fucks him through it all, laughs in amazement at Killua’s crumpling form, his body that of a slushie once he’s been wrung dry. When he finishes Killua presses lazy open mouth kisses to his chest, up to the dip of his collarbone, where he switches to small nips of his teeth.

“You’re so fucking hot,” Gon almost stammers as he pulls out of Killua with a wince. The chill of an empty hole and the window combined gave him an unpleasant, sharp sensation down his back, but he’s quickly saved as Gon picks him up gently and walks them both to the shower.

“Are we showering?” Killua looks up at the showerhead, watches as Gon fiddles with some of the switches before water rains down into the tub.

“I’d…like to? Is that weird? I kinda wanted to shower with you, uh…”

There he goes again. Killua’s lustful haze has basically disappeared at this point, his judgment slowly returning as he stares up at Gon with a bit of worry. It shouldn’t be bothersome, it really shouldn’t because they can still be friends with benefits and still shower together. There’s no rule that says they can’t, but Killua cares about the little things. The little things are what push them into that territory that he fears.

But the hot water feels incredibly soothing as the spray bounces off porcelain and onto his sweaty skin, and Gon stands above him in almost godly, naked glory with a hand held out. It makes his heart race and rage in its cage so ferociously that he doesn’t want to say no. _It’s just a shower,_ he tells himself, _stop freaking out, it doesn’t mean anything if you don’t give it any meaning_.

And it doesn’t, until Gon’s fingers thread through his hair, a fresh helping of someone’s shampoo in his palm as he begins to wash it thoroughly.

“What are you doing?” Killua leans into it, despite the interrogation.

“I’m just helping you out,” Gon murmurs, just barely heard over the roar of the shower that mingled with the chaos outside. “I’ve always wanted to do this.”

“What else have you wanted to do?” Killua asks though he feels he may regret it, might be swept up into something he can’t come back from. 

“Taking you on an actual date is on the list,” Gon stops momentarily before sculpting a shape out of his soapy locks, “one where we don’t sit in my dorm and eat take out that we paid for individually.”

“What is your beef with me paying for my own food?”

“I just wanna treat you sometimes!”

“ _We’re not_ _dating_ , Gon.” Killua reminds him and expects it to sting, enough for him to maybe _finally_ let it go, but Gon is unmoving, heels dug into the concrete. It’s not like earlier today, where he wove a white flag in the face of Killua’s displacement.

“Doesn’t matter. I wanna do things for you.”

“How charming,” He rolls his eyes. 

“What if I do them as your fuckbuddy?”

Killua sighs, “I guess there’s no stopping you, is there?”

“Nope,” Gon places a kiss on his nose. “But what do you wanna do after this?”

“After?” 

“Yeah, it’s only…” Gon ponders, “well, it was like eight when I dragged you in here.”

“Ah right,” Killua’s cheeks burn. He wonders if his friends are looking for him, or worse, wondering why he and Gon left that without a question. He found himself in a position to yet again pray that the alcohol had done enough of a number on their common sense that they forgot about it and moved onto something else. Killua was okay with being forgotten, anyway.

“But for real, you wanna just hang out for the rest of the night?”

“Really?” Killua raises a brow, interested.

“Yeah, I mean,” Gon waves a nonsensical hand in the air, “were you thinking about getting drunk again?”

“I mean, maybe? Maybe not?” Now that he considers it, the last remnants of beer have completely washed away, sex and the spray that beats down on his back are to blame. Did he want to go through all that again?

“Well, I found a place. In the house, I mean.”

“You did?”

“Yeah, it’s really secretive and secluded, as well as completely untouched.”

“I find that hard to believe,” Killua closes his eyes and tips his head back, letting the water run through his hair and the shampoo suds fall to the drain, “we went through and discovered every nook and cranny of the house.”

“You didn’t.”

“Oh really?”

“Secret door, Killua.”

“Secret door means… secret bed?”

“If we’re in the mood, we can put it to use.”

A secret room in the house excited him enough to get his heart racing, the possibilities flowing through his mind pleasantly. He feels like a child discovering a new action figure. The thrill of getting caught in a much _safer_ scenario than the two previous ones. That, and a night alone with Gon at arm’s reach, all for himself, sounded extravagant. He hadn’t really tired of the party vibe, but this proposal easily coerced him out of it.

“What’s your plan?”

“I dunno. No offense towards your fantastic shopping job, but I’m craving really trashy fast food. Like, burgers and fries trashy.”

“We have—oh, no we don’t…” Killua briefly recalls their entire supply of burgers and their complete obliteration at the face of two hungry rugby teams. A shame, truly. “I’m down for fast food. Are you trying to order?”

“Yeah, and pay.”

“ _Gon_ —”

“Please just let me!” Gon is bound to drop on his knees at some point and all Killua can bear to do is sigh, following it with a groan.

“So what, you gonna take me there after?”

“If you want,” He shrugs and runs a wet hand through his hair, standing up and springing up in all directions, “I know you care about keeping up appearances—”

“If we’re lucky, they’re already wrestling.” Killua snatches the body wash from its shelf. “Come on, hurry up. We’re missing our window.”

Gon follows and does as he’s told, but not before laughing so hard it echoes against the walls. Killua tries to hold back his smile, along with the anticipation building in his chest, bound to explode from his throat.

They clean up, dry themselves off, and vacate in minutes, a skip in their step with a new plan in mind. Gon fiddled with his phone as Killua mussed with his hair in front of the mirror, calling out food items just to have them rejected, _insisting_ that Gon should know his McDonald’s order by now, and ignoring the more personal context behind that.

Gon rang up their thirty dollar order, ignoring all protests from Killua. It’s embarrassing when he looks back on it because there are things he’s ridiculously stubborn about, like food bills, and then he’ll just go and _sleep_ with Gon. He won’t commit, or cave to any indications of it, but he’d devote every living minute to him if he could.

And worst of all, he doesn’t see sex, one of the most intimate practices between two people that there can be, as an indicator of commitment. No, it had to be things like paying for each other, and dates, and late nights in dorms and forehead kisses. And it bugs him, to no end. Why, _why_ did it all happen like this? Why does his mind behave like this?

When they exit the bathroom, looking as…dry as they can (Gon’s hair would be a trip to explain), they realize they’re completely alone on the second floor, just as they left it. In fact, there’s no sound on the second and ground floor to be heard.

“They must be in the basement,” Gon murmurs, “we’re lucky.”

“Yeah, wanna show me where this secret door is?”

“Follow me,” Gon nods, “It’s by one of the master bedrooms.”

“One of the master bedrooms? I don’t understand how we couldn’t have—”

But when Killua turns the corner to see Gon dragging one of the tall cabinets out and into the hallway, a wide grin on his face as he reveals a small door, most definitely big enough for them to crouch and crawl into its opening. 

“Unbelievable.” Killua blinks. “We’re all fucking dense.”

“Except me!”

He ignores that. “Where does it go?”

“If we like, go through the little hallway, there’s a caged loft.”

“What does it connect to?”

“One of the common spaces; huge fireplace one.”

“Right,” Killua nods. Perhaps it wasn’t as safe as he thought.

“But no one was really interested in that room, not even Hisoka. They assumed there was no way to get into the loft because the Airbnb host caged it up. I thought so too, but I did some exploring and lo and behold…”

“Okay,” He tries to level with Gon, who seems absolutely giddy at the idea still. “Hear me out. How are we getting _out?_ And what if someone decides to find interest in it tonight?”

“The door locks from the inside and I’ll leave the cabinet on the other side of the wall. They won’t get in, and we won’t get caught.” 

Gon inches closer, a sneaky hand gripping at his waist and tugging him flush against his chest, “But, now I wanna know, what if they do?”

“Um, we’ll be caught.”

“We can make something up, though. Kind of exciting to think about it. Could we manage to lie our way out of it?”

This was _too_ chaotic to think about for Killua. “Oh, I bet we could have done the same thing if you got caught with your dick up my ass, right?”

“No excuse I could make for that other than you being absolutely irresistible,” He cranes his head slightly to lick behind his ear. Killua lets out a hot breath.

“Can you save it for when we’re inside?” He demands hushedly, though he still reaches to anchor himself against him, “Please?”

“What if I blew you right here?”

“Gon we _just_ fucked.”

“I wanna do it again though…”

“Can you wait? Please?” Killua asks.

“Until…?”

“I…I don’t know, do you need time?”

“After food.”

“I’m gonna be bloated and gross after that.” Killua deadpans. “No.”

“What if we just sucked each other off?”

“Can we deal with it when we get there?” His request doesn’t match what his body tells him, the heavy chub sitting in his boxers pressed against Gon’s thick inner thigh.

“Okay,” He shrugs as if he hadn’t suggested publicly sucking Killua off in a hallway, peeling off his freshly bothered body and reaching to fiddle with the door. 

“Wait,” Killua stops him, “how long until the food comes.”

“I dunno,” Gon shrugs, “Ten? It was on the way last time I checked and it looks like McDonald’s is close to here.”

“It’s the one we passed _today_ , Gon.”

“ _Anyway—_ ”

“I’m just saying we should wait before we trap ourselves in there.”

“Fine, fine.”

After a short debate on what to do before time passes, they agree that they should make their last rounds amongst their friends and come up with some kind of excuse that can get them out of the dog house when the morning inevitably comes. With a kiss serving as their anchor, they split, destined to return to the very spot they stood in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> you _will_ know more about what happens in that secret room. in time ;) thank you for your patience and the support i've been receiving while waiting for the second chapter ;-; much love, fam.
> 
> working on other parts for the AU to post after part 3 of this as well! can't wait :)
> 
> follow me on [twitter](https://twitter.com/slowlange) and check out what i got going on!


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